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' We need not bid for cloistered cell. 
Our neighbour or our friend farewell; 
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high, 

^For mortal man beneath the sky." 

Thr Christian Year. 





The riyht of Tranalatmi is reatrvfd. 

Billing, Printer, 103, Ilatton Garden. London,'and;Guildford,JSnrrej'. 





Mrs. Green Brown was a very good-na- 
tured, warm-hearted creature. Perfectly satis- 
fied with herself and with every one else 
around her, and very fond of poor Lucy. 

She was vain and egotistical, it is true, and 
having received httle or no education, she had 
not acquired the art of concealing those de- 
fects ; but in the gay world there are many 
vainer women, who never speak of their 
own charms or conquests, and many far greater 
egotists who seldom talk of themselves at all. 



In a conversation with Mr. Popkins, Mrs. 
(rrcen Brown had discovered that it was his 
opinion that Lucy Blair was in a yery preca- 
rious state, quite unfit for exertion, and in sad 
want of change of air and scene. " In short," 
he said, " a few weeks in some sheltered place 
})y the sea would be her best chance just now; 
and I don't see how the poor girl is ever to 
I'cgain her strength and spirits, unless we can 
get her to "the sea-side, and out of this dark 
ding}^ street." 

Mr. Popkins knew Mrs. Green Brown well, 
he knew her extreme good-nature and love for 
liUcy, and having made this remark, he left it 
to work its way. 

The result was exactly what he had antici- 
pated. Mrs. Green Brown resolved that Lucy 
should have the benefit of the change Mr. 
Popkins advised ; and with that true delicacy 
which comes from good feeling, and is often 
found in a peasant, and may yet be wanting 
in a peer, she announced that she required a 


to give me my revenge, you good, kind 
dear !" 

" Oh," said Mr. Stockton, " a lady will 
always take that herself, sooner or later. But 
my present object was to play a game with 
our new widow, the mother of that exquisite 
girl, Miss Blair. She is quite a stranger 
here, and must feel so isolated. If you will 
kindly get me the men, I will try to persuade 
her to play a game with me." 

Mrs. Bland rose, pale with rage and envy, 
and stalked off to get the chess-men. Mean- 
while Strutt and Stair had approached the 
smiling Augusta. Strutt, colouring to the 
roots of his flaxen stubble, had begun — 

" Miss Bland, where is " 

" Your guitar ?" put in Stair. 

" In the next room, Mr. Strutt." 

" If you'll bring it me, you or Mr. Stair, 
I'll play you any tune you Avish for." 

" No, thank you, avc won't trouble yoi/. 
But Miss Blair, when Dr. Glybbc asked her to 

E 2 


sing tlic 'Troubadour/ said she would comply 
if she had a guitar. So I came to ask for 

'' Come," said Stnitt, " let's get it, Stair !" 
and both hurried off, leaving Miss Bland, in 
lier turn, pale with rage, envy, and mortifica- 

Lucy, who was always obliging, and doted 
on music, having no idea that anyone else 
pi'esent either sung or played, went on, com- 
plying with the request of one gentleman after 
another, singing a variety of beautiful airs, in 
French, German, Italian, and English, and ac- 
companying herself on the guitar. 

Mr. Stockton, havino; vainlv tried to cret 
Mrs. Blair to play chess with him, sate down 
h\ Lucy, while Mrs. May, Mrs. Bland, and 
the three Miss Blands retired to the balcony 
to abuse Miss Blair and the beaux. 

Dr. Glybbe, Stmtt and Stair, Major 
Quicklv and old Stockton did nothins: but 
crowd round Lucy, asking for this new song 


or that old ballad, and crying hrava and 
encore, till she was fairly tired out. 

All this time Lady O'Blarney, in the back 
room, was making out her accounts. Mrs. 
Green Brown was asleep on the sofa ; and 
the merry widow Dolores was enjoying the 
discomfiture of the Blands and Mrs. May. 

At length Lucy, seeing her mother look 
pale and tired, laid down the guitar, and pro- 
posed to Mrs. Blair to retire. The Blands 
and Mrs. May, coming in from the balcony at 
this moment, were in time to see old Stockton 
take Lucy's hand in both of his, bowing 
over it w^ith an old-fashioned grace. They 
heard him " thank her from his inmost heart 
for the most enchanting nmsic he had evei- 
heard, and the most delightful evening he 
had spent for many a long year.'* 

Then came Dr. Glybbe, with his eyes cast 
up, and a " Heaven bless you, fair song- 
stress !" And Major Quickly hastened witli a 
trip to the door, to open it for Mrs. and Miss 


Blair, a movement which, as Strutt and Stair 
started off on the same errand, ended by their 
Jill arriving together Hke racers at a goal. 

Lucy could not help laughing as she said 
good night and disappeared, Avhile Mrs. May 
cast up her eyes, and Mrs. Bland, hghting her 
candle, a sneer on her lip and a frown on her 
brow, swept out of the room without a Avord 
to the gentlemen, Avho Avere all clustered on 
the nig talking of Lucy. And Lucy, wearied 
out with the fatigue and excitement of a day 
so unlike the usual routine of her life, fell 
asleep as soon as she had laid her head on the 
pilloAA% without the slightest idea that in the 
surrounding chambers Love or Hate (both fa- 
mous for murdering sleep) kept the inmates 
wakeful, and all for her ! 




There is something very cozy and hospi- 
table in the appearance of Hastings. The 
])right, snug, pretty little town seems nestled 
under the overhanging rocks like ducklings 
under the parent bird's wing. Very quaint, 
antique, and original are the two streets of 
tlie old toAvn, w^hich stretch far away into 
the country — country as beautiful and varied 
in its scenery as any the continent can boast. 
The environs of Hastings are lovely, with their 
dark rocky heights, their rich valleys, their green 


woods, their exquisite meadows and tempting 
foot-paths, their abundance of wild flowers, and 
the many lovely sites from which one obtains 
an unexpected view of the grey old castle and 
the bright blue sea. 

St, Leonards is veiy handsome, regular, for- 
mal, looking like Belgravia gone down to the 
sea-side ; but it has nothing of the romantic, 
picturesque, enticing beauty of the dear old 
Hastings, built on such uneven ground, at the 
foot of the everlasting rocks, whose grey 
heads, worn faces, and green wigs look to the 
present generation much as they did to the 
Roman or Norman invaders ; there they stood 
immovable when that Castle, now a crumbling 
ruin, was first built and manned by sons of 
imperial Rome or haughty Normandy, and 
there they stand, firm and unmoved still, amid 
all the countless changes in governments, 
nations, customs, fashions, politics and creeds. 
The sky, the sea, themselves alone unchanged. 
They looked on the first rude ships that sue- 


cessively engaged, so far back as 1050, with 
" Swein the corl," and those that conquered 
the French more than two centuries later by 
tilting at the Gallic vessels, with the iron- 
beaks of their galleys ! and they look on the 
light, slender, and commodious boats that 
have taken the place of those. cumbrous ships, 
and paddle so gallantly along, with a long 
pennon of steam (a true feather in their iron 
caps and hats) floating on the sky. 

When Lucy awoke from a long and dream- 
less sleep, feeling, for the first time since her 
illness, strong and well enough to get up to 
breakfast — Mincing knocked at her door. 

" My mistress sends her love, miss, and as 
she's going to bathe in the sea this fine morn- 
ing, she wishes to know if you're inclined to 
be of the party. My mistress, when she sent 
for a bathing suit for herself, miss, ordered 
one for you too, likewise a cap, which it is 
certain the sea do deteriorate the 'air. Just look 
out, miss, and see what a merry scene there is on 


the beach. It's low water, miss, the machines 
will be on the sands ; it'll be beautiful bathing, 

Lucy sprang out of bed, and ran to her 
window. It was indeed a lovely scene ; the 
sun was shining with a golden brightness on 
the sea, that sparkled like a huge opal. 

All Hastings seemed up and about. Merry 
children, whose hair showed they had already 
taken their morning plunge, were, some run- 
ning, some digging, some riding sleek, sober- 
looking donkeys. Vendors of flowers, fruit, 
shrimps, shells, and, above all, whelks, were 
crying their goods. Pony chaises were filling 
fast, so were rowing and sailing boats, and 
equestrian parties were setting out for the 
beautiful country : — a more animated scene 
could not be conceived. 

Lucy felt her spirits rise as she inhaled the 
bracing sea breeze, and by the time Mrs. 
Green Brown tapped at her door she was 
ready. Lucy had not heard her mother stir, 


and looking through the half-open door, she 
saw that pale, dear, lovely face, tranquil in a 
deep refreshing sleep, and looking happier 
and healthier than Lucy had seen it for a 
long time. A feeling of gratitude to heaven, 
and hearty thankfulness to Mrs. Green Brown, 
filled the daughter's heart as she remembered 
how often, in the yellow light of morning in 
Arundel Street, she had seen the dear face 
looking, after a sleepless night, pale, anxious, 
jaded, and almost old, and she blessed Mrs. 
Green Brown in her devoted heart, and greeted 
her warmly when she met her on the landing — 
at least a huge voluminous bundle, in an enor- 
mous mushroom hat, with a thick double gos- 
samer veil, and a large wrapper, responded to 
lier with the voice and accent of Mrs. Green 
Brown, but there was something very hurried, 
hidden, and mysterious in her manner, rather 
downcast and humble, nothing of the pomp- 
ous assumption, overbearing dictation, and 
self-admiring consciousness that attended her 
when in full dress. 


Mincing carried a large ])asket. Mrs. 
Green Brown, who was very liberal and open- 
handed, was surrounded by those most un- 
couth of naiads, bathing women, directly she 
appeared on the beach. One amphibious 
creature, with a very red face, a huge black 
bonnet, a blue serge dress, and black cloth 
trowsers, with a resolute expression, a very 
broad back, short waist, and bony frame, (guilt- 
less of crinoline,) claimed her at once as her 
" own dear ladv," and laid her huo;e hand also 
on Lucy, whom she called " a pretty dear." 

Mrs. Green Brown, desiring Mincing to give 
Mrs. Blair her bathing dress and cap, clam- 
bered up into one machine, followed by her 
maid, Lucy Blair tripped up the stairs of an- 
other, and both were fairly launched and sent 
out to the sands by the means of ropes and 
pulleys. Lucy had scarcely had time to put 
on the smart bathing dress, consisting of a 
tunic and trowsers of grey serge with broad 
green and scarlet stripes, and trimmed with a 
great aiuount of green and scarlet braid, when a 


hoarse voice and a thump at the l)ack of her 
machine announced the bathing woman. 

" Come, my pretty dear," said the woman, 
standing up to her waist in water, " give me 
your hand. It's your own precious Betsy, 
she'll take care of you ! One, two, three, and 
away !" and before Lucy was the least aware 
of her intention, the marine she-Hercules had 
ducked her repeatedly, as easily as if she had 
been a baby ; she then fastened a rope round 
Lucy's waist, secured it to the machine, and 
told her to " float, wash, splash, and duck, and 
dive, and swim if she could, while she went 
and dipped the other pretty dears as was all 
waiting for their own precious Betsy." 

Lucy, recovering from the first shock, and 
feeling confidence as she grew used to the 
water, soon ventured out the whole length of 
the rope, and her spirits exhilarated as she 
had seldom felt them before, by the vivifying 
effect of the sea-water, the fresh morning 
breeze, and the amusing scenes around he]-, 


tlioroiiglily enjoyed her young existence; 
everything looked couleur de rose. 

Poor child ! strange that it should do so to 
a destitute " daily governess," Avithout funds, 
friends, hopes, whose lover was gone to seek 
fortune thousands of miles away; whose 
grace, beauty, and accomplishments made her 
such bitter enemies among her own sex, and 
such dangerous followers, hunters, persecutors 
among men. 

But la jeunnesse ne perd jamais de ses 
droits, and Lucy Blair, rtot yet eighteen, on 
that bright morning, sporting and splashing 
about in that sunny bright sea; snug little 
Hastings smiling in her face, sheltered by 
rocks, and crowned by the old grey ruin 
of a castle, a holiday before her and the 
fairy land of youth, love, and hope in the blue 
distance — Lucy, the Daily Governess, was 
happier than any duchess just then opening 
her languid eyes on silken hangings and gilded 
cornices, and 


little bracing herself, and was going with 
Mincing to Hastings for a few weeks. 

She had not been there three days, before 
she sent a pressing invitation to Mrs. and Miss 
Blair, to visit her in that most dehghtful spot, 
andwith thoughtful liberality she conunissioned 
Mr. Popkins to procure two first class tickets, 
and present them as coming from her, to 
frank them down. 

The very evening before the arrival of this 
ill-spelt but most amiable letter, Mr. Popkins 
had, as agreed between him and Mrs. Green 
Brown, impressed on Mrs. Blair the import- 
ance of a little sea air and change of scene 
for her beloved Lucy, and had mentioned 
Hastings as the place, above all others, desir- 
able for the convalescent. 

Quite unaware of any understanding or 
charitable collusion between her kind friends, 
it seemed to Mrs. Blair (in her simplicitv) 
quite providential that Mrs. Green Brown 
should have invited Lucy and herself just, as 



ill anguish of spirit she was bewaihng her 
poverty, and the consequent impossibihty of 
her giving Lucy what Mr. Popkins called her 
best chance. Mrs. Blair, aided by the willing 
Betty and kind old Mrs. Bragge, bustled 
about to pack up, and seemed to grow strong 
and young again, in her unspeakable dehght 
at this sudden and great good fortune ; and 
even Lucy, as she lay, pale, wan, and languid, 
on the old black horse-hair sofa, felt her heart 
revive at the prospect of the rocks, the sea, 
the lovely country, the drives, the rides, the 
sea-bathing, the holiday in short, that woukl 
form so delicious a contrast to the drudgery 
of her life as a Daily Governess, and the dim 
and dull monotony of her sunless sick-room. 
Mrs. Blair is so happy in this prospect of a 
few weeks at beautiful Hastings (chiefly on 
her Lucy's account, but a little too, on her 
own, for she dotes on the sea, and life by the 
sea-side), that she looks almost young and 
blooming as she flits about getting ready for 


the journey ; and there is a ray of Uglit re- 
kindled in Lucy's violet eyes, and a faint tinge 
of colour on her cheek, when the cab drives 
up to the door, and Mr. Popkins, passing at 
the time (of course rpiite accidentally), hands 
the ladies in, and informs them that Mrs. 
Green Brown has invited him, if his profes- 
sional engagements allow him leisure, and 
his aunt can accompany him, to spend some 
future Sunday with her at Hastings. 

"Now don't forget, Mrs. Blair," he said^ 
" as much exercise as my fair patient can 
take without fatigue ; early hours ; the tepid 
sponging bath (salt water), well nibbed dry 
with rough towels, a new-laid egg at breakfast, 
chop or chicken at dinner, no study, and mind 
kept easy, and throw physic to the dogs ! " 

They were off. It was a bright day, a 
civil Cabby; they were in good time for the 
train. Lucy leaned back in the corner of a 
comfortable first-class carriage, well cushioned, 
soft and springy, her mother by her side. 


The bell rings loudly, merrily out, the shrill 
whistle is heard, the huge train is in motion, 
slowly they move along the cool, dimly -lighted 
archway, and then rush wildly along the 
shining rails, and soon leave London roofs 
and chimney-pots far behind. 

The sky is intensely blue, the sun glori- 
ously bright, the soft west breeze fans Lucy's 
cheek and waves her chestnut hair ; she closes 
her eyes with a sense of intense comfort, and 
for a few moments existence seems a blessing. 
Even the thought of her absent lover does 
not sadden her spirit, — in that buoyant, 
happy, and unwonted mood. We have all 
known such moments during the conva- 
lescence that succeeds a severe and dan- 
gerous illness. Li early youth they seem to 
atone for sleepless nights and days of suf- 
fering, and while they last ever^lhing seems 
to promise fair. 

Lucy, as she leaned back with closed eyes 
and in perfect peace, thought of Harry, but 


not as she had latterly done, with self-ro- 
proach, doubt, and dread. " He will pros- 
per," she said to herself, " he will judge me 
aright, he will approve of my resolution, lie 
will see that I sacrificed inclination to duty, 
and my own happiness to his best interests. 
He will return to claim me ; and my dear 
mother, she is by my side, stronger, better, 
happier. We are going to the lovely sea, to 
beautiful Hastings, with its dear old town 
and dearer old rocks, its cmmbling castle, 
and its lovely suburbs. We are going to a 
kind, true friend, and I shall not have to 
hurry off in the early morning to teach stub- 
born, saucy, rebellious children, made so by 
my cruel employer. Ah, no Lady Hamilton 
Treherne will scorn or sneer at me there. 
No pupils will disobey, defy, jeer, sneer, hint, 
whisper, nudge each other, or make signs at 
me. I shall not have to knock at that great, 
inhospitable, dreadful door. No James, no 
Tomlinson, no Malmsey, no Hannah, with 


sham civility and real insolence, to stare at 
me and giggle before I am out of hearing ! 
Oh, manoma, who can tell what may happen 
in a few weeks ? You remember poor 
Corinne sa}s, ' Cest un avenir que trois 
mois! Perhaps when Mrs. Green Brown 
said a few^ weeks, she meant a period not 
much short of three months. Wlio can tell 
where Ave may be in three months ?" 

''Who, indeed, my Lucy?" said Mrs. 
Blair, forcing a smile, and trying to look, in 
spite of sad experience, as if she expected 
better days. Hope is youth's prophet, and 
it was Lucy's. Mrs. Blair had learnt to dis- 
trust the charmer and her flattering tale. 
Lucy was not aware of this. 

" Oh, what an Elysium, mamma !" she ex- 
claimed, " am I not too happy ?" 

Then from the poor heart of the young girl 
rose a prayer and a thanksgiving. Well 
done, Mrs. Green Brown ! you are, in spite 
of all your faults, your ignorance, your vanity. 


and your vulgarity, a pattern to those who 
have the means of diffusing happiness and 
doing good, not merely in cold and haughty 
almsgiving, or subscribing to this asylum or 
that refuge. Do this, but leave not undone 
such deeds as Mrs. Green Brown is doing in 
giving this delightful holiday to the poor con- 
valescent Daily Governess and her mother. 

We all know (in our consciences) of kind- 
nesses we might do to each other, and which 
we yet leave undone, from motives of pride, 
vanity, sloth, indifference, procrastination, or 
want of sympathy, and yet we believe (or at 
any rate Ave profess to beHeve) that he who 
gives a cup of cold water from motives of 
])ure charity shall not lose his reward. Oh, 
that we could bear this in mind, and try to 
" do good to all men." 




The scenery in the immediate neighbour- 
hood of Hastings is singularly romantic and 
beautiful, and to Lucy and her mother, who 
had been so long cooped up in the dark, 
smoky, sooty wilderness of a crowded com- 
mercial part of London, the view from the 
window of the railway carriage, and the sumiy 
breeze that came in redolent of wild roses 
and of honey, were full of enchantment. 
They were travelling in a carriage set apart 
for ladies, and thev had it all to themselves. 


Mrs. Blair did not wish to expose her 
beautiful unprotected Lucy to the attentions 
of any fellow-travellers of the unfair sex, and 
the poor girl had already suffered too much 
from the impertinence of coxcombs (young 
and old) not to rejoice in her security from 
every kind of attention and intrusion. 

As they were travelling by the express the 
journey did not much exceed two hours in 
duration, and reclining on the softly-cushioned 
seat of a first-class railway carriage, close to 
an open window, on a bright balmy day in 
early autumn, Lucy felt rather exhilarated 
than fatigued by the exertion. She was not 
at all impatient to arrive at Hastings, for she 
had still a great deal of the languor of con- 
valescence about her, and perfect repose amid 
such scenery, while breathing such balmy air, 
was to her a very great enjoyment. 

Mrs. Blair, who in her early youth liad 
been at Hastings, was less tranquil, and 
Lucy's historical reminiscences compelled her 


to sit up and look with vivid interest on 
scenes associated with the glorious hut fatal 
battle that gave England to the Normans, 
and one of her favourite heroes, the brave 
Harold, to Death and Fame. With that power 
of realizing the past, which is one of the attri- 
butes of genius, and predisposed by her own 
heart to dwell on the pathetic, Lucy figured 
to herself that dreadful battle-field, that ter- 
rible night, and the vain search among the 
dying and the dead for Harold the Brave, a 
search given up in despair by all but woman's 
love! . . . Vividly to her fancy appeared 
the pale and perfect face and muse-like form 
of Edith of the Swan-neck, hoping against 
hope, as, with distended eyes and lips com- 
pressed, she alone, torch in hand, and led by 
the instinct of true love, passed through all 
the gory, ghastly furrows of that field of blood, 
and reached her Harold's dead body, to lie on 
}iis cold breast. 

Mrs. Blair, long past the age of romance, 


could not share her Lucy's hiterest in the 
" Swan-neck's search/' 

" I'm not quite sure about it," she said ; 
" and you, Lucy, fresh from your books, ought 
to know best, but I fancy you're wasting your 
sympathy on an unworthy object, and that 
' Edith of tlie Swan-neck' was, after all, no 
better than she should be." 

Lucy smiled as she said, " I believe, mam- 
ma, that modern historians, whose great de- 
light seems to be to rob the past of every 
association of romantic and sentimental in- 
terest, like those remorseless utilitarians who 
strip the ivy from old chiu"ch towers and 
ruins, and cut down every old gnome-like 
tree that casts a shadow on a corn-field, have 
tried to rob Edith's name of the halo of 
purity ; and for my part I love to believe she 
was good as well as fair, and I think the de- 
votion of her \o\Q is strongly in favour of hei" 

*' Well," said Mrs. Blair, *' I thought I had 


heard of something of the kind, and I own I 
cannot believe that any modest woman w^oukl 
go in the dead of the night all over a field of 
blood to find out her own lover by torch- 
light. I fancy I see yon, under similar cir- 
cumstances, doing such a bold, unfeminine 

Lucy did not argue the point, but her eyes 
filled witK tears at the image of Henry 
Greville on such a field, and she felt in her 
own heart that she also should go forth, 
like " Edith of the Swan-neck," to search for 
his dear remains, and, like her, to die on his 
bosom ! . . . . 

" Now%" said Mrs. Blair, " if you want 
something really interesting to look at, there's 
the old castle ; that is, indeed, a ruin, — and 
even antiquarians can't decide whether it was 
built by WiUiam the Conqueror, or whether 
it was not a Roman fortress long before his 

As Lucy began to rummage among her 


historical reminiscences for the history of this 
Nestor of ruins, the train steamed gaily into 
the Hastings station, and conspicuous among 
all other expectants, in full sea-side costume — 
jaunty hat and scarlet feather, white moselle 
morning dress, and sand-shoes — Mincing be- 
hind her, carrying her novel, parasol, basket, 
and camp-stool, and leading a spaniel by a 
string — was Mrs. Green Brown, nodding, 
smiling, and waving her embroidered hand- 
kerchief in token of welcome. 

There is no cordial so cheering and com- 
forting to the heart as a cordial reception. 
Lucy and her mother felt it to be so. 

It is true that Mrs. Green Brown's loud 
^oice, showy person, and very demonstrative 
manners attracted a good deal of attention, 
and that some sneers and stares were ex- 
clianged between some cold-eyed dandizettes 
nnd haughty young fashionables, with inci- 
pient moustaches and confirmed imperti- 


Lucy was by nature very sensitive, and 
keenly alive to ridicule ; and she blushed, and 
for one moment suffered intensely — but the 
next, reflection came to her aid, and made 
her ashamed of her Aveakness. 

" Which of those sneerers," she said to her- 
self, " can boast the kind heart of Mrs. 
Green Brown ? — which among them all would 
do for a friend what she is now doing for 
me r 

Full of these thoughts, Lucy, even while 
several eye-glasses were levelled at her and 
at Mrs. Green Brown, warmly returned that 
kind creature's cordial embrace — took her 
arm, and said, loud enough for the astounded 
beaux and belles to hear her — 

" I suppose you've met as yet with no 
friends of yom^s here?" 

" Have you, dear friend?" said Mrs. Blair. 

" I beheve there are no visitors of any con- 
sequence at present at 'Astings," replied 
Mrs. Green Brown, in a loud voice. " For 


the next week or two we must not expect 
anything but ill-bred clerks and shop girls 
hout for a 'oliday ; indeed, my dear/' said 
Mrs. Green Brown, louder still, " I believe 
I'm almost the only carriage-lady among the 
visitors ; and as for the gents," she added, 
glancing at some young exquisites, who were 
tapping their spurred boots with their horse- 
whips, " many of them keep a pair of spurs 
and a horsewhip, but none of them a 'orse or 
a carriage ; and when they get half-a-crown, 
and 'ire one, they soon show who and what 
they are, for they all ride like a tailor with a 
stich in his side." 

Mrs. Green Brown saw that her revenge 
was complete, for the ill-natured dandizettes, 
who owed their laggard beaux many a 
grudge, did not suppress a little affected titter 
at their expense ; and the long-coated, bare- 
necked, short-sighted dandies reddened to the 
very roots of their closely-cropped hair ; and 
not having ready-wit enough for the slightest 

VOL. 11. (; 


retort at so short a notice, yawned, stretched, 
hnmmed, hawed, stuck their eye-glasses in 
their lack-lustre eyes, and finally moved off, 
to the dismay of the young ladies, who pre- 
ferred those laggards in love, and dastards in 
war, to no beaux at all, and would rather 
have listened to their egotistical platitudes 
tlian to each other's boasts and sarcasms. 

" And now, dear Mrs. Blair, and darling 
Lucy," said Mrs. Green Brown, " I have a 
very agreeable surprise for you. I am not 
going to take you to some moping, quiet 
lodging, where you would never see anything 
l)ut rocks and water, or hear anything but the 
monotonous ripple of the waves and howl of 
the wind. No ! I know what lodgings by 
the sea-side are — Avhat a system of cant, 
plunder, and abuse pervades them all ; and 
in a place where one does not know a soul, 
what chance has one of anything but dulness 
and ennui ? To escape this, I have this veiy 
day engaged rooms for us all at a splendid 


new boarding-house, just started. It is 
headed by a lady of high rank and title — 
Lady O'Blarney, on the Marine Parade. 
None but carriage-people, or those connected 
with them, are admitted at all. It's very 
select ; if it hadn't so been, I'd not have 
hagreed, on my own haccount and Lucy's. 
You, Mrs. Blair, with your long, white phiz, 
and staid, helderly ways — it's no matter for 
you, except on Lucy's account ; old birds aren't 
caught by chaff. But you'll have enough to 
do to chaperon us. There, if it is rather high, 
one knows what one has to pay, there can be 
no system of cheating carried on in the shape 
of * hextras,' and a noble breakfast, luncheon, 
dinner, and supper always to be depended on 
— everything of the best, and punctual to a 
minute. Then I've ascertained that I shall have 
some very agreeable beaux at this boarding- 
house, and I'd as soon dine without wine, or 
play cards for nothing, as be where there are 
no gentlemen to happreciate and hadmire me ! 


Oh, we shall do fine 'avoc among the 'earts at 
Eonvivant 'ouse, I'm certain. All gents 
under forty I resign to Miss Lucy, all over 
that hage she must 'and over to me. Tm 
sure that's fair. But you, both of you, 
look as tired and mopy as two howls by 
daylight, who have been 'ooting all night. 
Luckily 'ere we are ; and you can go to your 
I'ooms at once, and get an hour's rest before 

As she spoke, the brougham stopped before 
a very handsome, spacious house. As it was 
a fine day, all the boarders were out, riding, 
driving, sailing, rowing, Avalking, or sitting 
by the sea, except Lady O' Blarney, who sent 
her compliments by a constellation of buttons 
(in the shape of a page in a dark crimson suit), 
and begged to be excused receiving them in 
person, on the plea of being at her " twihght," 
as the page called it. They were shown up 
into their own rooms, JMrs. Green Brown 
calling out to them to make themselves at 


'ome, and border tea, as it wanted two hoir-s 
of dinner time, and she should go and get a 
mouthful of hair before she came in to 

It was a great relief to Lucy and her mo- 
ther to find themselves alone. Kind, gene- 
rous, and good as she was, Mrs. Green Brown 
was so voluble, loud, showy, and demon- 
strative, that she was very oppressive to Mrs. 
Blair, who was always delicate, and to Luc} , 
who at that time had all the acute, nervous 
susceptibility common to convalescents. 

" How good and generous she is !" said 
Mrs. Blair, as she sank into an easy chair. 
" And yet, Avhat a comfort it js to be alone !" 

" It seems rather ungrateful to think it so," 
said Lucy. " But, I must oAvn, I feel it in- 
tensely to be so — and yet, how she has con- 
trived everything for our comfort ! What a 
spacious, airy, dehghtful bed-room for you, dear 
mamma, and what a nice, dear, snug, little 
bower for me, adjoining it. Hoav pleasant to 


lis, loving as we do to be by ourselves so much, 
to have this large room, with more than half of 
it furnished like a sitting-room to retire to. 
8ee what an exquisite bouquet on each of our 
tables ! — look at this basket of delicious 
fruit ! and these nice cakes, books, wiiting 
materials, everything, e\ en to postage stamps 
— nothing forgotten — a couch for me placed 
where I can look on the lovely open sea — an 
easy chair for you. Is it not like enchant- 
ment, after dingy Arundel Street, and poor 
old Mrs. Bragge's second-floor ?" 

Lucy, as she spoke, threw herself on the 
sofa, and gazed through her tears on the clear 
blue expanse on which pleasure-boats and 
flshing-smacks were sailing gaily. 

At this moment, a neat housemaid came in 
with what the novelists call " the tea equi- 
page ;" and this most welcome refreshment 
was another proof of the delicate considera- 
tion of one whose outer and inner self were 
so little in unison. 


'' How glad I should have been," said 
Mrs. Blair, " if our kind, good friend could 
have contented herself with some quiet lodg- 
ing. I have, and indeed I ever have had, a 
very great dislike to any kind of boarding- 
house, particularly for young people. If you 
do not converse and make yourself agreeable, 
you are considered proud, and voted a bore ; 
and if you are accessible, you are mixed u|) 
with people of whose antecedents you know 
nothing ; and should you be much liked or 
admired, the more you excite the envy and 
malice of a very inferior class of women." 

"Why an inferior class, mamma ?" said 
Lucy. " From the appearance of this house, 
and from the fact that the hostess is a lady of 
rank and title, I should think the company 
Avould be very select ; at any rate" (and she 
smiled) "none but carriage people, as Mrs. 
Green Brown calls them, or those recommended 
by them." . 

" L'ignorance roide en carosse tand'is que le 


merite va trop souvent a pied,'' said Mrs. Blair; 
''in this country, and in this age, if people 
have no guarantee for respectability but what a 
carriage conveys, in my opinion it is next to 
none. Formerly it was very different ; I have 
heard your papa, Lucy, say that his grandmo- 
ther used to go from London to Bath in her own 
coach-and-six, with two outriders, and be three 
days and nights on the road. A carriao;e kept 
in that style tms an evidence of wealth and 
station ; but now, every great tradesman's 
wife, if her husband is at all aspiring, has 
her brougham. It cannot be helped, but I 
own I do not at all like the idea of my Lucy 
at a boarding-house." 

"Oh, mamma," said Lucy, "perhaps, if these 
})eople heard that I am only a poor daily gover- 
ness, they would not like the idea of having me 
here. You know how, eveiywhere, a gover- 
ness, a daily one especially, is looked down 
upon. I thought it only fair to Mrs. Green 
Brown to tell her the truth, and even she — 


though she said it made no difference to her 
feehngs, or rather that it raised me in her 
opinion — remarked that it had better be kept 
a profound secret from every one but herself, 
as governesses (though expected to be elegant, 
accomplished, delicate ladies) were almost 
always looked down upon as unfit company 
for any but their pupils.' " 

" Ah, dearest, I fear that is too true, and 
I fervently hope you may never have to knock 
at any door again in that capacity. And vrho 
can tell — our coming here may be provi- 
dential, my Lucy ! — If there is a man of taste, 
feeling, and sentiment under this roof, he 
must become attached to you, and if he is 
rich and well-born " 

" Even if there were such an one, which is 
most unlikely, dear manuna, and if he pro- 
posed to me (which is more vudikely still), I 
would rather return to my daily drudgery 
with all its disadvantages, than marry for a 
home, a fortune, a })osition . ." 


" But you might love a man of good for- 
tune, Lucy, if he Avere lovable and devoted 
to you." 

Lucy shook her head ; her thoughts 
were with one whom she passionately loved, 
who was seeking fortune for her sake, and 
she pressed to her bosom the ring she had 
hidden in it, fastening it to a small gold 
chain, and as she felt the pressure of the 
gold circlet' and the turquoise forget-me-not, 
she inwardly vowed to respond to the faithful 
motto of that little flower. She buried her 
face in the sofa pillow to hide the tears that 
would gush forth, and her mother, looking 
upon her emotion as hysterical, and the result 
of her recent illness, thought it best not to 
notice it, but feeling quite rested and re- 
freshed by her tea, began to unpack all that 
Lucy and herself would require for their first 
appearance at dinner at Bonvivant House. 



MRS. GREEN BROWN 671 toUette. 

Mrs. Green Brown was gorgeously arrayed 
when she tapped at Mrs. Blair's door to warn 
them that the dinner bell was about to ring. 
Though it was a warm day in August, she was 
in a bright geranium-coloured moire antique, 
one of the new-fashioned gold belts surrounded 
her ample waist, and her *' 'air," as she said, 
had been, by her own desire, dressed "careless 
and cool," and gathered up in a scarlet and gold 
net ; gold and coral ornaments adorned her 
neck and arms, and she was, as was always the 


case with her when en toilette, very conceited, 
full of herself, and rather disparaging about 
the dress and looks of other ladies. 

" My dear old soul," she said to Mrs. Blair, 
"you look like a magpie or an undertaker in 
that black dress and white shawl ; and upon 
my word, without any crinoline, you look ex- 
actly like a drowned rat. Do let me lend you 
a cap ; what a pity, with such fine 'air as you 
still 'ave, to thrust it all away under that dowdy 
cap — and you are as white as a curd. Now, 
if you'd let Mincing bring you a dress "and a 
turban of mine, and allow her to arrange your 
'air and tint your cheeks, you'd look a ver\^ 
pretty woman, and do me some credit — 
wouldn't she, Lucy ?" 

" Oh, I like dear mamma much better as she 
is," said Lucy. " I should not know her in 
such a disguise !" 

"Well, I've heard it's a wise child that knows 
its owm father, but you would be a ' stoopid ' 
not to know your own mother just because 


she was di^essed like other people," laughed 
Mrs. Green Brown, in her hilarity poking 
Mrs. Blair in the side with her fan, and pinch- 
ing Lucy's thin pale cheek — much too hard 
to be pleasant. Mrs. Green Brown was very 
fond of poking and pinching her favourites. 

" Besides," said Mrs. Blair, " the plainer I 
am the more I shall set you off — which I can 
do very well, at least, ma'am." 

'* Thankee for nothing," said Mrs. Brown, 
" with your mock modesty ; but, Lucy, are you 
not going to put any flowers or ribbons in your 
'air ? You look like a Quaker in that grey silk, 
so plainly made, and coming up so high." 

"And if I do," said Lucy, "George the 
Third, alias George the Good, was never in 
love but once in his life, and that was with a 
Quaker ; and in this volume of Byron's early 
poems which I have just Hghted on, there is a 
most passionate love soug to a Quaker, in 
which are these lines ; — 

** ' May heaven £0 shield my lovely Quaker 
That anguish never may o'ertiike her.' " 


" Well," said Mrs. Green Brown, " I wish 
you'd made yourselves a little smarter, con- 
sidering all I've said about you ; but there 
you are in black and white, Mrs. Blair, just 
like a magpie, and Lucy like a grey pigeon or 

a Quaker, . . . and I ," and she looked 

over her broad shoulder into the large cheval 
glass, her train sweeping behind her. 

''You," said Mrs. Blair, "you'll look all 
the more splendid for our plainness." 

" Well, do oblige me, Lucy, by wearing 
this scarf and this net," said Mrs. Green 
Brown, as Mincing came in with a blue che- 
vulle net covered with silver crescents, and a 
scarf of blue crape studded with the same. 

Lucy could not refuse, and we must own 
these additions added greatly to the effect of 
her delicate and remarkable beauty. 

The ladies then descended to the drawing- 
room, where Lucy and her mother were ])om- 
pously presented to Lady O'Blaniey, who, 
instead of the pale, blond, haughty beauty. 


>> iiich Lucy, judging by Lady Hamilton Tre- 
herne, had associated with the idea of rank and 
title, proved to be a vulgar, voluble, broad- 
faced, high-coloured woman about thirty, who, 
before her complexion had assmned such a 
coarse texture and rubicund tint, might have 
had a considerable amount of Hebe beauty, 
and was tall, straight, and plump ; had bright 
blue eyes, abundant black hair, white teeth, 
and a very good-humoured, coquettish manner. 
In addition to our friends and the hostess, 
there was a fat middle-aged physician, hand- 
some, wealthy, a desperate flirt, and a 
great favourite, and who was there chiefly 
to attend to a little old bald ^vhite man, 
a reputed Crcesus, who was very sarcastic. 
The doctor's name was Glybbe Lothario 
Glybbe, and his patient was Mr. Stockton, 
whose large fortune had been made as a dry- 
salter. There was an anxious-looking mother 
of three rather tall fine-looking daughters, of 
whom the youngest, though called Baby, was 


six and twenty, but was spoken of by Mrs. 
Bland and her elder sisters as " not sixteen," 
" not out," " a forward chit," and so on. Then 
there were two Avidows, one all weeds, with a 
long face, long nose, long eyes, long upper 
lip, very long projecting teeth, long chin, and 
long crane-like throat, long waist, long body, 
long arms, long hands, and long feet, and full 
of deep sighs, groans, and " the Long ago." 
The other short-faced, short-bodied, all flowers 
and smiles, and full of hope and "the future." 
A very gay half-pay major, of uncertain age, 
chinchilla head, \ery well dressed, gay and 
gallant, called Major Quickly, and two 
stiff, shy, young government clerks (taking a 
holiday), completed the party. The merry 
widow was, strange to say, called Mrs. Do- 
lores — her husband had been of Spanish ex- 
traction ; and the doleful relict was Mrs. May. 
We do not reckon among the guests two 
handsome, noisy, romping children of Lady 
O'Blarney's, a boy and a girl of the ages of 


eight and six. The boy was called Rory and the 
girl Kathleen — splendid specimens of Irish 
l>v3auty, with abundant hair in long black 
curls, large open dark blue eyes, with black 
eyebrows and long black lashes, rich com- 
plexions, peach-like cheeks ; very tall and 
straight, springy and active, beautifully dressed 
and full of mischief, and who, at the time 
that our party entered the front drawing-room, 
were playing at double battledore and shuttle- 
cock in the back drawing-room Avitli Baby 
Bland and Major Quickly, while Dr. Glybbe 
(Lothario Glybbe) was holding some blue silk 
on his fat white hands for the laughing widow 
Dolores to wind, and the sighhig, groaning 
widow May was knitting a grey silk com- 
forter for the rich old Stockton. The two 
elder Misses Bland were laying close siege to 
the stiff, cold, silent government clerks 
(watched over the edge of a newspaper by their 
anxious mother). 

" Come, gentlemen," said Lady 'Blarney, 

VOL. IL 1) 


" as the ladies are two to one against you, yon 
must make use of both arms; offer yo\ir 
right arm to one lady, and your left to an- 
other ; I dare say you'd be glad enough of 
the same privilege extended to your hands. 
Now, Mr. Stockton, take Mrs. Green BroAvn 
and Mrs. Dolores down to dinner." 

" No, Lady O'Blamey," said Mr. Stockton, 
" such an insignificant little old fellow as I am 
would be quite lost between two such crino- 
lines, with those hoops as barricades ; I could 
not get near enough to the ladies to give them 
my little short anu." 

'' Well, then, Major Quickly, will you take 
pity on beauty in distress ?" 

" That will I gladly," said the major. " It 
must be something more than a barrier of 
crinoline that can keep Quentin Quickly from 
the side of the fair." 

Mr. Stockton then stole to the side of Lucy 
and her mother, and saying: — "I have two arms 
at your service, hi dies; and I shan't be quite lost 


between you, moderate as the proportions of your 
hoops are," took them down to dinner ; while 
the one government clerk, Mr. Strutt, took 
Mrs. Bland and her eldest daughter, the other, 
Mr. Stair, taking Mrs. May and the fair Miss 
Bland, and Dr. Glybbe went gaily down, 
pressing Lady O'Blarney's arm to one fat side, 
and Baby Bland's to the other. The children 
had disappeared at the announcement of 
dinner, and the nursery-maid coming in to 
fetch them to tea, could not find them any- 
where ; and seeing her sweetheart — a hand- 
some young boatman — on the parade, she 
stepped out to ask him if by any accident the 
little ones had rushed out, as they sometimes 
did, to have a romp with him. 

D i^ 




The table at Bonvivant House fully justi- 
fied Mrs. Green Brown's eulogium. It was 
set out a la Russe — a glorious pyramid of 
fresh, fragrant, and beautiful flowers adorned 
the centre of the board, and a choice, cool- 
looking, tempting dessert was displayed, the 
perfumed and fresh fruit being beautifully 
garnished with the ice-plant, of all things 
used for the purpose the most refreshing to 
the eye and mind on a hot summer's day. 

Everything that was handed round was of 


the choicest and best, done to a turn, and 
more like a banquet at some nobleman's 
mansion than an everj^-day dinner at a board- 
ing-house. Lucy, perceiving that a delicate 
white soup and a 'puree aux petUs pois were 
succeeded by turbot and salmon, began to fear 
that Mrs. Green BroAvn must be put to an 
enormous expense by having two visitors to 
pay for besides herself and her servants, at a 
house conducted in so extravagant a manner. 
Again and again, as this thought occm-red 
to her, she regretted that they were not 
located in some quiet little lodging, where 
one dish of cutlets and another of vege- 
tables, Avith a light pudding, or a fruit tart, 
to follow, would have been a suitable and 
sufficient dinner. However, Lucy felt that 
neither she nor her mother could possibly 
have foreseen or prevented the present arrange- 
ment ; and the triumphant glances whicli 
Mrs. Green l^rown gave her at each suc- 
cessive culinary triumph, convinced her that 


the best return she could make to this kind, 
generous, provoking being, was to enjoy as 
much as possible the luxuries set before her. 
And certainly, if this dinner had been ordered 
and arranged by Lady O'Blarney, it did 
great credit to her taste and skill ; by the side 
of each guest's plate was a beautiful little 
bouquet, consisting of one moss-rosebud, one 
sprig of mignonette, one summer pink, with 
its unutterable intensity of summer sweetness, 
its delicate white fringe and band of maroon 
velvet, and one spray of green verbena or 
myrtle ; in every frosted finger-glass the 
w^ater was iced and perfumed ; gay crackers, 
with gallant, tender, or comic mottoes, were 
abundantly supplied, and, during dessert, fur- 
nished, as they always do, a good deal of fun 
to those who cannot originate any themselves, 
w^iile they helped out the resources of those 
who could. 

Mr. Stockton, who, in spite of all advances, 
generally spoke at dinner only to utter a 


sarcasm, and constantly refused to let off a 
cracker on the plea of his nerves, assented, 
directly Lucy amiably proposed to him to let 
one ofF v> ith her ; and when Lucy, who had 
glanced at her motto, would have crushed it 
up in her hand, he insisted on seeing it, and 
taking out his eye-glass, read with much feel- 
ing that pretty verse of Campbell's — 

** Alas, we severed are by Fate, 
As far as night from noon ; 
You came into the world so late, 
And I depart so soon." 

" A useful remembrance of what an old 
fellow might forget in your sweet company, 
Miss Blair," said old Stockton ; " I never 
before regretted that I do depart so soon." 

" I am sure," said Mrs. May, casting uj) 
her long eyes, and drawing down the corners 
of her mouth, " we ought all, not merely to 
prepare for so blessed a change, but so far 
from regretting it, we ought to welcome its 
approach. We're all on the same line, sir; 


some a little nearer the terminus, some a 
little farther from it, but all travelhng Expresj?, 
and all sure to reach the goal ere long. . . . 
Oh ! '' and she groaned, " oh, sir, don't say 
you regret it, even if your last station be 
close at hand, if all's right within, and your 
ticket's ready." 

" La, Mrs. May !" said the lively Widow 
Dolores, "jou talk like an undertaker on 
duty. If life is a railway journey, there's no 
harm in enjoying it, in making pleasant ac- 
quaintances by the way, and trying to be as 
comfortable as possible en route ; one needn't 
always be bothering others and frightening 
oneself about one's luggage and one's ticket, 
but try to be as right as possible, and then 
exercise a little faith, ma'am," 

" But faith without works, ma'am, that'll 
avail you little, as you'll find in the long nm, 

" Stop, ladies — fair, dear ladies," said Dr. 
Glybbe ; " remember, theology and politics 


are forbidden here But come, Lady O'Blar- 
iiey, let us crack a joke between us." 

The lady agreed, and the motto was read 
aloud in the oily voice and monotonous, 
mournful cadence peculiar to such men as 
Lothario Glybbe when reading rhyme — 

" United to thee, what a home should be seen, 
I'd be king of the household, but you be its queen." 

This motto caused a good deal of merri- 
ment, the Major, rather jealous, declaring the 
Doctor must have known what it was. Per- 
haps, as he had purchased the crackers, he 
had ascertained what the one he had handed 
to Lady O'Blarney contained. 

The Doctor declared chance alone had 
befriended him. 

'' Permit me to doubt it," said the Major ; 
" I know you're qulcl\ but remend)er, sir, 
I'm Quickly." 

Just at this moment Mary, the nurscr}- 
maid, came in, pale and scared, to wliisper to 


lier mistress, Lady O'Blarney, that she could 
not find the chikben anywhere ; and the 
Doctor, starting up in assumed terror to go 
and look for them, knocked down a glass, 
which rolled under the table, and stooping to 
pick it up, he discovered the two little 
O'Blarneys, hot and tumbled, bursting with 
suppressed laughter, having been hidden close 
to the feet of the company during the whole 
of dinner-time. Lady O'Blarney, instead 
of reproving them, seemed to think it a capi- 
tal joke, and they were soon seated, one on 
each side of her, letting off crackers, devour- 
ing fruit, cakes, and sweetmeats, and drink- 
ing as much wine as they chose. Before the 
ladies retired, both the Doctor and the Major 
(and, in imitation of them, the Government 
clerks) had sent honhons with mottoes full 
of tender gallantry to Lucy, and in conse- 
quence of this A¥idow May and ]\Irs. Bland 
and her daughters regarded her already with 
envv and ill-will. 


As for the merry widow Dolores, her 
maxim was, " Let every woman win, wear, or 
break as many hearts as she can ;" and Lady 
'Blarney, whose whole soul seemed to be 
wrapped up in the success of her boarding- 
house, did not care, as long as her table 
attracted, who or what was the magnet. That 
Lucy would henceforth be that magnet no 
one could doubt, so beautiful, graceful, and 
intellectual a girl, highly accomplished, and 
imafFectedly amiable, must in every class and 
countiy be an object of admiration to men, 
and this is enough to make her the mark of 
the malice, envy, and detraction of the vain, 
the unamiable, and husband-hunting of her 
own sex. 

But Lucy, when she followed the other ladies 
to the drawing-room, had no idea either that 
the gentlemen below were all talking of her 
with interest and admiration, or that the Widow 
May and the Blands were making her the sub- 
ject of that close and angry conference which 


they were holding at the further end of the 

At Mrs. Green Brown's suggestion, and at 
Lady O 'Blarney's request, Lucy had taken her 
seat at the piano, and w^hen her heavenly 
voice burst forth in 

'' Sono vergine vezzosa 
Sono bianca, sono rosa, " 

Mrs. May groaned out to Mrs. Bland — 

" There's a bold husband-hunter for you, 
ma'am 1 That's to bring those idle coxcombs, 
those sons of Belial, 'flown with insolence 
and wine,' flocking about her. Oh ! vanity, 
vanity, all is vanity ! She'll bring a curse on 
this devoted house, ma'am, and ^ve poor, in- 
nocent victims shall be lost through her !" 

" It is very bold of her to be singing the 
men up in that way," said Mrs. Bland, for- 
getting that, as far as a few old quadrilles, 
and a feeble attempt at " Cherry-ripe" and 
'' Lilla s a Lady," in a very bad, squeaky voice 


allowed, her daughters were always trying to 
summon the beaux, by means that they alone 
called " music." 

** And, lo and behold/' said Mrs. May, 
" that besotted old Stockton, with one foot in 
the grave, and the other on the brink of it 1 
There he is, a good hour earlier than usual, and 
without even looking round for us (old friends, 
in comparison), hobblhig up to that odious 
forward chit !'* 

" And here come all the others, contempt- 
ible imitators !" said Miss Bland. "There's 
the Doctor. How fat, and hot, and foolish 
he looks ! with his green eyes cast up to 
show them off, balancing himself on his 
broad toe, and with one of his fat hands on 
his heart. I quite hate the fellow ! And 
there's the Major, all red and grey, like a 
Middlesex rifleman, and bringing up the rcaj', 
of course, — Strutt and Stair f 

" I declare," cried Baby Bland, " the first 
time I've a chance, I'll slap Dr.Glybbc's fat fi\cc 


for this. He never came up before that he 
didn't the very first thing come to me either 
to have a game at les (graces or shuttle-cock, 
or a run on the sands. Look at his mock 
ecstasy, and at the Major's, too — both pre- 
tending to beat time ! They desen^e to be 
beaten themselves ; and neither of them, with 
all those connoisseur airs, knows a crotchet 
from a quaver, a sharp from a flat, or * The 
Canadian Boat Song' from 'Rule Britannia.'" 
" I wonder how Lady O'Blamey likes being 
so cut out ?" said Mrs. Bland. 

" Oh," replied Miss Bland, '' if she thinks 
.that bold, forward chit will attract some 
rich, fashionable idlers, she won't care ; she's 
very fond of attention, but she's fonder still 
of money, and her boarding-house is more to 
her than her beaux." 

*' What is her history-, my dear Mrs. May ?" 
said Mrs. Bland ; " I've mixed a good deal 
with the aristocracy before my marriage, but 
I own I never saw anvone at all like her 


among my papa's and mamma's noble 

" I heard that mystery solved to-day, 
mamma," said Miss Bella Bland. " I was 
sitting in the ' Penny Reading Room,' where 
I went to see if my tale was in the ' Family 
Herald,' when I heard two women talking of 
Lady O'Blarney, and after some very severe 
criticisms on her dress, manners, person, &c. 
&c. &c., one of them remarked that, although 
there is a noble family called O'Blarney, and 
three Dowager Ladies O'Blarney, our hostess 
(though generally mistaken for one of them) 
is none of those, but the third wife of an old 
Irish city knight. Sir Rory O'Blarney (knighted 
by George the Fourth for presenting an 
address forty years ago). He married her 
almost in his dotage, she being the daughter 
of the woman at wliose house he lodged. 
As he had nothing but a pension and an an- 
nuity, all he left her was this deceptive title 
of Lady ; and on this she trades." 


" Oil, that explains all," said Mrs. Bland, 
'' her strong brogue, her faults in grammar, her 
odd manners, and the way in which she lets 
those odious children run wild, while she is 
flirting or cheating, — I shan't stay much 
longer here, now I know all this. I fancied 
she was the widow of an Irish Peer ; and 1 
hope to be thrown again among such people 
as I mixed with before my unfortunate mar- 
riage. I'm sure I've no reason to advocate 
early marriages," said Mrs. Bland ; *' I was 
married from the schoolroom before I'd time 
to look round." 

*' And I from the nursery," said Mrs. 
May. " I was dressing my doll when my 
ma came to tell me Mr. May had popped 
the question to my pa. I rememl)er 1 
was sitting, holding a backboard, with 
my feet in the stocks, when my mannna 
came in with a letter to me, enclosed in 
one to herself ; and I cried so, I wasn't 
iit to be seen when May came to tea. 


Mrs. Bland, finding herself no match for 
Mrs. May, motioned to her eldest daughter to 
follow her on to the balcony, and said — 

" There car/ be no good in staying here, 
now, Gussy, at a ruinous expense, just to see 
eveiy man in the house slight us, to devote 
himself to that girl, who, I doubt not, is a 
very artful, designing creature, but is, I must 
own, extremely elegant, beautiful, and grace- 
ful, and the finest private singer I ever heard. 
I don't think, Augusta, you have now the 
slightest chance of Strutt or Stair !" 

" And have ^gu, mamma, resigned all hope 
of Mr. Stockton ?" said Miss Bland, bitterly. 

" I never dreamt of him, or of changing 
my condition at all," said Mrs. Bland, angrily, 
" except for the sake of my family. I 
thought, if /married old Stockton, I nn'ght 
coax him into portioning you three girls off, 
and doing something for Jack, Ben, and poor 
little Tom ! But men, even the old ones, are 
so fickle and so vain, so fond of novelty, and 



SO Open to flattery and attention, particularly 
from a young and remarkably beautiful girl, 
that I shall withdraw from the contest. Mr. 
Stockton had begun to like me, I am sm^e ; but 
directly the new beauty smiled at and 
wheedled him, and gave him some love motto 
or other, I knew how it would be. I shall 
give notice to-morrow." 

" Oh, don't do that. Ma ! it would be very 
premature. Look, here's old Stockton coming 
to you, and Strutt and Stair to me !" said 
Miss Bland, reviving as the little, bald old man, 
with some difficulty getting out on to the bal- 
cony, approached Mrs. Bland by one windo^v, 
and Strutt and Stair drew near Miss Bland by 

" I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bland," said 
Mr. Stockton ; " and I think you were kind 
enough to take charge of my box of chess- 

" I will get it directly," said the dehghted 
widow. " How kind of you. You want 


*' Born to tread the crimson carpet. 
And to breathe the perfumed air." 

While she was rejoicing in the delicious con- 
trast between bathing in the sunny sea, plung- 
ing, splashing, and sporting the while in the 
bright water, and lying in her darkened cham- 
ber on her bed of pain as she had recently 
done, or trudging through the dingy streets at 
early morning, or sitting at her daily drudgery, 
under the cold eye and bitter sneer of Lady 
Hamilton Treherne, the door of Mrs. Green 
Brown's machine suddenly opened and Min- 
cing appeared, first calling aloud for Betsy, and 
having succeeded in making the red-faced, 
broad-backed naiad hear, she re-entered the 
machine, and Mrs. Green Brown, in full bath- 
ing costume, showed herself to Lucy and to 
all the wondering bathers, male and female. 

No marine coquette at Dieppe or at Biar- 
ritz, could have surpassed Mrs. Green Brown. 
A white and scarlet tunic, and a pair of full 
trowsers of the same material, made her a very 


showy object ; but the most remarkable thing 
about her was the profusion of long golden 
hair, that fell in silken ripples from under a 
scarlet netted cap, glistening with coral beads. 
Her neck and arms, very white, very fat, and 
a good deal exposed, were also hung with 
coral. Eyebrows and paint she had not ven- 
tured on ; but her face was a good deal con- 
cealed by the hair that hung over it, and no 
one but Mincing and herself was aware that 
the golden torrents that shone so brightly in 
the morning sun, were nothing more nor less 
than Mrs. Green Brown's bathing wig ! 

Certainly, such tresses seemed little in 
keeping with the overwhelming obesity of her 
figure, and the very elderly look of her face ; 
which, robbed of its wonted lilies and roses, 
looked very much the worse for wear, but, as 
Wordsworth said, '' it must have been a pretty 
child to have such pretty hair." So the bath- 
ing beaux and belles in the distance, decided 
that the possessor of those long golden tresses 


could not be, at any rate, much past the 
pnme of hfe. The Herculean Betsy, who 
was all bone, while Mrs. Green Brown was 
all fat, took the latter in her huge manly 
arms, and dipped her as easily as she had 
done the sylph-like Lucy. And Mrs. Green 
Brown was still floating, splashing, dashing, 
and learning to swim, when Lucy, afraid that 
lier mother might be anxious about her, re- 
hictantly left the bright open sea, and re- 
entered her bathing-machine. 

In due time the ropes and pulleys were at 
work again, and Lucy, in answer to her en- 
(piiry, hearing that Mrs. Green Brown was 
not quite ready, but begged her not to wait 
for her, was hurrying back, when she met lier 
mother with something of returning bloom on 
her cheek, coming out to breathe the fresh 
morning air, and sit by the beautiful sea till 
breakfast time. 

Lucy (lid not see Mrs. Green Brown again 
till they all met at the well-spread U\hh. She 

VOL. n. F 


was surprised to see that the golden tresses 
looked quite dry, bright, and glossy. Mrs. 
Green Brown was all lilies and roses, with 
arched eyebrows and coral lips ; her hair was 
confined in a sky-blue net, and her form enve- 
loped in a white cachemire wrapper, trinuned, 
lined, and faced, with sky-blue silk (quilted). 
She looked all the better for her bath, and as 
well as she was capable of looking. 




Lucy Blair was the undisputed belle of 
Hastings, and Bonviyant House became the 
rage in consequence. Men of fashion and 
fortune left their hotels and bachelor lodg- 
ings, for the sake of sitting at the same table, 
and exchanging a few words with the beauti- 
ful Miss Blair. 

Lady O'Blamey, in whom interest and i-a- 
pacity were stronger than vanity or jealousy, 
paid all possible court to one, wlio, as she 
said of her, and as liei" Ibrefathers might have 
said of their annual pig, *' paid the rint." 

V 2 


Rich, old, bald, little Mr. Stockton . never 
resigned his office of handing Lucy do^m to 
dinner, and sitting by her side — and Lucy 
liked his quaint kindness, and the remarks 
which, however sarcastic when others were 
concerned, were full of gentleness and sym- 
pathy for her. Mrs. May, after warning him 
that he was on the high road to perdition, and 
calling Lucy io him (in private), 'a whited 
sepulchre,' had been laid up with a bilious 
fever. The merry widow Dolores was delighted 
by the influx of gay company (especially 
]^achelors and widowers), attracted by Lucy's 
charms, and still more by her reputation as a 
beauty, Mrs. and the Misses Bland, lingered 
on in the vain hope of catching on the re- 
bound some heart Lucy had rejected; but 
they were full of envy, hatred, malice, and 
all uncharitableness, and but that her mo- 
desty, discretion, and maiden dignity, toge- 
ther with her mivarying and decided dis- 
couragement of any marked attentions, left 


tliem no excuse or opportunity for maligning 
her, they would have contrived to rob her 
character of that spotless purity which lent 
it so ineffable a charm. 

We hope we shall not detract from our 
reader's good opinion of Lucy, as a heroine, 
when we say that she spent two months of a 
happiness which would have been perfect, 
could she have heard of the welfare and 
progress of her lover. Even as it was, 
the change from a life of drudgery in Lon- 
don, to one of perpetual pleasure, freedom, 
and appreciation in the most delightful of our 
watering places, filled her young heart with 
intense dehght. Her cheek recovered its 
delicate bloom, her violet eyes their soft, clear 
radiance, her lip its ruby, and her nymph- 
like form its roundness. A brighter and more 
golden gloss seemed (as it always in reality 
does with returning health) to settle on tlir 
abundant ripples of her long thick tresses of 
golden brown, whicli, whether sporting in the 


A\iiKl, 01" gathered up behind into a blue or 
scarlet net, added to the charms of the sweet 
face which Mrs. Green Brown had taken care 
to set off bj a little white straAv hat, bound 
with black velvet, adorned with gold braid, 
and with a rosette, through which a golden 
arrow w^as stuck, Avhile round the crown a 
long white ostrich feather waved. This hat 
was at once the perfection of the fashionable 
and of the becoming. 

Mrs. Green Brow^i, though not exactly a 
iigiu-e for riding, w^as a very daring horse- 
woman, and as she doted on horse exercise, 
and never would ride without her ' pet,' as 
she called her, Lucy seldom spent a day with- 
out a long delightful ride in the exquisite 
environs of Hastings. 

All the beaux of the boarding-house were 
on the qtci vive to escort Mrs. Green Brown 
and Miss Blair, and sometimes a dozen gen- 
tlemen formed the body-guard of the two 
ladies, at whose approach people rushed to the 


windows, and a little crowd of admirers daily 
gathered round Bonvivant House, to see ' the 
Belle ' mount and alight. Sometimes parties 
were formed by the gentlemen, Dr. Glybbe 
and Major Quickly, to take the ladies on the 
water, and almost every day, for Mrs. Blair's 
sake, ]\Irs. Green Brown took a drive. 

Bouquets, verses, songs, new music, sere- 
nades (all for Lucy), kept ahve the imitative 
admiration of Stair and Strutt, and the envy 
and malice of the Blands, while they were 
almost the death of poor Mrs. May. 

It was about the end of the second month 
of this holiday, that Mr. Popkins, Lucy's 
kind London doctor, arrived, one Saturday 
evening, very late, with his little quaint old 
aunt, to spend Sunday, as he had promised 
to do when they left London, with Mrs. Green 
Brown and the B lairs. 

Mr. Popkins had frequently wi'itten to en- 
quire after his ' fair patient,' and had always 
been delighted to hear of her improved looks 


and restored health ; but he was not at all 
prepared for the wonderful change two months 
at Hastings had made in the pale, thin, wasted 
girl, w^hose neglected hair seemed like her 
existence, to have lost its gloss ; w^hose eyes 
unnaturally large, as an invalid's often are, 
w^ere surrounded by dark circles, whose smile 
had no sunshine, whose drooping form had no 
roundness, and whose low voice had a mourn- 
ful cadence, painful, and yet dear to his 

Mr. Popkins started when Mrs. Green 
Brown led him out to the beach, where 
Lucy was sitting, surrounded by admirers and 
adorers, plump, blooming, smiling, erect, 
laughing merrily, talking gaily, exquisitely 
dressed ! Queen of Beauty as she w^as, she 
was not the Lucy he had loved so tenderly. He 
had come down resolved to propose. He had 
brought down his old aunt to help him ; but 
as he gazed on Lucy, he felt sure he had no 
chance. He scarcely wished for a wife so 


unlike what Lucy was, and on Monday lie 
went back to town. 

Mrs. Green Brown never would hear Mrs. 
Blair and Lucy speak of ' expense/ or of 
bringing this enchanting visit to a close. 

" Wait, at any rate, till the season here is 
over," she would say, " before you allude to 
a change that will be death to me." 

But Lucy would say, " I am contracting 
such habits of luxury, ease, self-indulgence ; 
I am growing so giddy, vain, idle ; how, if this 
continues, can I ever return to that drudgery 
on which I must depend for my existence and 
my mother's?" 

" Never return to it, Lucy," Mrs. Green 
Brown would say ; " with your face and 
figure, you must be a fool not to marry to 
your carriage. Old Stockton's over 'ead and 
and ears in love with you. If you can't love, 
you can't marry for love — well then marry foi- 
money ; think of your mother. Now, ilww) 
isn't one of tlic young fellows that your 


beauty has lured here that wouldn't propose 
directly if you gave him the least encourage- 
ment ; but you'd be worse off as Mrs. Stair, or 
Mrs. Strutt, clerks both of 'em worth less than 
two hundred pounds per hannum ; and all 
hairs and graces, or rather grimaces, and none 
of the other young fellows are much better 
off. Quickly loves the ground you tread on, 
but he must marry for money. I see nothing 
for it but old Stockton, and I shall put him 
up to proposing — now see if I don't, and for 
your poor dear mar's sake, you must say 
' yes,' and I shall have made your fortune." 

" Not for worlds ! I implore you," said Lucy, 
turning very pale and clasping her hands. 
" I cannot tell you why it would not be of 
the slightest use to take so bold a step, and 
so to compromise my dignity and all female 
decorum; but, even if you did it, and Mr. 
Stockton were fool enough to follow your 
advice, and propose to me, I should be com- 
pelled to refuse him, and he, though now 


a very kind friend, would be turned into an 
enemy, for no man, however old, forgives a 
woman for refusing him." 

" He'd be turned into a dear, indulgent, 
good old soul," said Mrs. Green Brown. 
" Better be an old man's darling than a young 
man's slave. Now don't you like him too, 
hold, bald, bent, and haihng as he is, better 
than Quickly, Glibbe, Stair, Strutt, and the 
whole lot of them ?" 

" Yes, I do, but I wo^ild not marry him." 

'' Fiddle faddle, we'll see about that. Re- 
member, you've owned you prefer him." 

" To the other gentlemen here — Yes ! — 
but I implore you not to tell him even that — 
promise me !" 

At this moment the dinner-bell rang, and 
Mrs. Green Brown hurried from Lucy's room, 
where they were sitting, to her own, to retouch 
her eyebrows, cheeks, and li])s. 

" She must be joking," said Lucy to herself. 
" She cannot do so l)old, so indelicate, so un- 


fair a thing ! Perhaps I shoiikl do better to 
tell her of my engagement ; but how can I 
confide to her a secret I keep from my own 
mamma? — and that for fear only of distressing 
mamma with the idea that I have sacrificed the 
happiness of Harry and myself to her ; l)esides, 
Mrs. Green Brown would try to persuade me 
to break my word, and my own and Harry's 
heart, and would be always hinting, nodding, 
perhaps even writing about it. Oh no, it is 
impossible to tell her !" — And taking her quiet 
gentle mother's arm, Lucy went down into 
the drawing-room, where the company always 
assembled at the first dinner-bell. 

Mr. Stockton, full of deep and affectionate 
regard for Lucy, was always very attentive to 
Mrs. Blair ; and Mrs. Blair, though sickness 
and sorrow had bowed her down, and she had 
early adopted an elderly dowdy style of dress, 
and felt and called herself an old woman, was 
in reality in the prime of life. She had mar- 
ried at sixteen, and before she was seventeen 


Lucy, her only child, was born. Lucy was 
not yet quite eighteen. So that 'hold Mrs. 
Blair/ as Mrs. Green Brown always called her, 
to Mincing, was not yet quite thirty-five. 
Many reigning belles have numbered more 
summers. But Mrs. Blair's dress, manners, and 
demeanour were those of a sensible woman of 
sixty. No one would have guessed that a 
profusion of rippled, glossy hair of chestnut 
brown, untinged by grey, w^as concealed under 
her close dowdy cap ; that her high, short- 
waisted, dark silk dress and white china crape 
shawl concealed a perfect form, — and that 
Mrs. Blair only wanted a little animation, a 
good hoop, or crinoline, and a hair- dresser, 
to come forth a still young and very beautiful 

Lucy, who knew what her niotlicr really 
was, constantly tried to induce lier to doft' 
her odious cap and old-maidish shawl, and to 
dress "like other people;" but until Mrs. Hlair's 
visit to Hastings, depression of spirits and 


feelings of bodily lassitude had made Mrs. Blair 
resist any attempt at rejuvenizing or smartening 
herself up. But even Mrs. Blair was begin- 
ning to feel, in her fast returning health of 
body and mind, some little energy, and some 
consciousness of her own good looks, united 
with her sex's natural desire to please and 
to be loved. The sickly pallor of her com- 
])lexion, the dark circles round her eyes, and 
the premature dimness of those once bright 
orbs, all had disappeared, so had the invalid 
stoop of the shoulders, and jaded, wearied 
expression, manner, and walk. 

The cap was not as yet quite laid aside, 
but the close old-fashioned dowdy fabric was 
exchanged for a light, modish, little French 
contrivance, through which the rich glossy 
hair was clearly seen ; the clinging shawl was 
laid aside, a moderate crinoline adopted, and 
a pretty Zouave jacket, forced on Mrs. Blair 
by Mrs. Green Brown, completed the trans- 


A fairer mother and lovelier daughter 
never appeared, than Mrs. Blair and Lucy, 
as they entered the drawing-room on the day 
in question ; and Miss Bland, who, in spite of 
her ringlets, her hat, and her assumption of 
girlhood, was in reality older than Mrs. Blair, 
said to her mother — 

'' Well, wonders will never cease, ma ; if 
there ain't old Blair come out as a young 
belle — old ewe dressed lamb-fashion, as that 
vulgar Mrs. Green Brown said about Mrs. 
Dolores. Isn't she a Guy ?" 

'' I wish I could say I think so," said Mrs. 
Bland ; " but the truth is, I call her, next to 
her daughter, the prettiest woman I ever saw — 
and so I believe old Stockton thinks too ; look 
how he is taking them down, one on one arm, 
the other on the other. I think, as Mrs. May 
said to-day, he must bring down a signal 
judgment on his bald old head !" 

" Well, Mrs. ^May has (piite resolved, ma,, to 
send for him to-morrow, to her roojn, as shc'ii 


too ill to leave it ; and there she means to 
point out the error of his ways, and warn him 
to flee before it is too late from the snares 
that are closing round him." 

" I dare say the old fanatic will offer her 
own hand to help him to break through them. 
She had quite set her dismal old heart on 
winning Stockton for herself — but she never 
had a chance'; but for those odious Blairs, I 
think, as he does know a fine woman when he 
sees her, there was a fair prospect of his 
being your papa, Gussy. I wish I could 
find exactly who and what these Blairs are ; 
I think there's something dubious and mys- 
terious about them. I Avant to know who the 
father is or was, and what is their income, and 
what it comes from. If my daughters were 
like any others, they'd have found all these 
things out for me by this time. I've a great 
notion all isn't right, and their intimacy (lady- 
like and highly-educated as IVIiss Blair is) 
with that atrociously vulgar Green Brown, 


makes me strongly suspect there's something 
wrong. If I could find it out, as okl Stockton 
is so very particular about female character 
and propriety, it might destroy their influence, 
and he might return to his allegiance to me ! 
I wish I knew how to go to work ; — when he 
and Glybbe came here they both insolently 
paraded an announcement that they were not 
* marrying men,' and now, I believe, that bald 
fat fool, Lothario Glybbe, has made up his mind 
to propose to Miss Blair, and old Stockton 
seems to vacillate between the mother and 
daughter; but I believe the superannuated idiot 
will pop the question to one or other soon." 
" And Major Quickly, mamma ?" 
" There's something odd about liim too ; I 
think he's a sort of partner of O'Elarney's. 
He's got a decided brogue, particularly when 
not on his guard, and he's very like her too. 
I fancy he's her brother." 

'' Well, I have often seen looks and signs 
pass between them, and he takes a good deal 



upon himself, while she does nothing without 
consulting him." 

'' I should leave the house," said Mrs. 
Bland, " only the table is so good and the so- 
ciety so varied and amusing, while, all things 
considered, the charges are very moderate ; 
but I own I am getting very tired of hawking 
about three old maids for ever ; even Baby is 
getting grey, and you make me look old and 
spoil my market, without advancing your own." 

Miss Bland turned away, pale with anger 
and mortification, and began to turn over in 
her mind the possibility of inducing a curate 
who had proposed to her ten years before, and 
who w^as still single, to renew his offer. 

Bella and Baby were summoned to her 
council in the back drawing-room after dinner. 
Bella, too, had, w^hen first she came out, had an 
offer (from a solicitor), which her mother had 
compelled her to refuse, although her own 
inclination prompted her to accept. 

The fact was, Mrs. Bland, who had been a 


beauty, and was still very vain and a fine 
woman, had the command of the interest of 
her daughters' little fortunes until they mar- 
ried, and this, added to her own dowry, 
formed about eight hundred pounds per an- 
num. She was not a bad mother, and was 
very ambitious for her children ; she would 
not have grudged them their fortunes (much 
as the paying them would have diminished her 
own income) if the matches were to be what 
slie called good matches. But, like so many 
other mothers, she kept her daughters single 
by her absurd requirements and expectations, 
and then abused, insulted, and tormented them 
for becoming old maids. 

*' I should have been happily married fifteen 
years ago, but for mamma !" said ]\Iiss Bland. 

" And I, too," said Bella. " But it may 
not be too late, sister." 

" Your adorer is single for your sake, mine 
is now a widower with six children ; but I'm 
almost resolved to have him." 

G 2 


"Mamma has goaded me almost to the 
point of writing to poor Hampton. He's 
still a curate, but my four thousand would 
buy him a living," said Miss Bland. 

" ril marry the first man who asks me," 
said Baby. "If it hadn't been for Miss 
Blair, Dr. Glybbe would have proposed by 
this time." 

" Well, I hear he has resolved to make an 
offer to Miss Blair," said Bella ; " and as she's 
sm*e to refuse him, you might just step in, 
Baby, to dry his tears, heal his wounds, and 
become Mrs. Glybbe." 

"And so I will, if he asks me," said 

" You'll have to ask him !" replied her 

"No matter ! That's a more common oc- 
currence on the lady's side than people fancy. 
But won't I pay him out, after we're married, 
for offering his fat self to Miss Blair ; won't I, 
that's all I" 


Mrs. Blair was, as we have seen, a very 
modest, unassuming woman, taking a great 
pride and delight in her daughter's charms and 
triumphs, but entirely without " pi-etension " 
on her own account. 

Still, with returning health and bloom, and 
with the attention to her toilet which Lucy 
and Mrs. Green Brown insisted on, she cer- 
• tainly appeared in. the eyes of every one to 
be a young and very pretty woman, and her 
glass constantly reminded her of the fact. 
When, therefore, Mr. Stockton, the very next 
day, requested a private interview in the back 
drawing-room with Mrs. Blair, that lady na- 
turally thought his object was to propose to 
herself, and she had made up her mind that 
her duty was to accept, though her inclina- 
tion was decidedly opposed to a second mar- 
riage. As for Lucy, the idea of her mother's 
ever marrying again was so new to her, that, in 
spite of Mr. Stockton's great age and great 
wealth, it came upon her like a shock. 


To most pure-hearted and high-minded 
yomig girls (particularly when under the in- 
fluence of a true and first passion), there is 
something revolting in the idea of a second 
choice ; and Lucy was surprised to find how 
odious to her was the thought of her mother's 
resigning her liberty, beginning life afresh as 
Mrs. Stockton, and of there being any man 
whom she must call " papa." 

Still Lucy knew how much Mrs. Blair had 
sufiered from the penury of their circumstances, 
from seeing Lucy go daily forth to daily 
drudgery for bread, and possibly, nay, pro- 
bably, to insult, outrage, and ill treatment. 
How precarious, too, was that painful pro- 
fession of a Daily Governess, and though, 
as her mother spoke of the proposal she 
expected and thought it her duty to ac- 
cept, Lucy felt her cheek burn and her 
heart swell, yet she could not but own to her- 
self that her impatience and irritation were 
most unreasonable, and she forbore, in conse- 


fjuence, to make any attempt at dissuasion. 
But when she saw her mother dressing 
herself with extreme care, and looking very 
complacently at herself in the glass, a sort of 
exasperation took possession of her mind, and 
she could scarcely do more than say " yes," oi- 
''no," while her mother remarked that w^omen 
daily contracted marriages, who not only were, 
but looked old enough to be her, Mrs. Blair's, 
mother ; "and that though for years she 
had made a dowdy of herself, yet nature had 
certainly not intended her to be one, for thirty 
years to come !" 

Then she tried on first one cap, then an- 
other, and consulted Lucy as to the eifect of 
pink or blue, lilac or green, and gave a 
separate trial to each, she Avho never before 
(in the recollection of Lucy) had shewn the 
sUghtest evidence of vanity or coquetry. 
While she was fastening on the pmk ribbons 
(on which her choice had finally fixed) a ser- 
vant came to say " With Mr. Stockton's re- 


spects, that he was awaiting her in the back 

" A very impatient suitor, eh, Lucy T said 
Mrs. Blair. "Well, darling, it is for your 
sake I shall say, ' yes.' You will never have 
to plod along in all weathers, and knock a 
mutilated knock at the doors of those not 
really your betters, and put up with the trials 
that are always the share of a Daily Gover- 
ness;" and kissing her hand to Lucy, Mrs. 
Blair, a flush on her cheek and a sparkle in 
her eye, ran down stairs. 

" How strange is this change in mamma," 
said Lucy to herself ; " and how much more 
I shall hate that which is to follow — unrea- 
sonable as I feel and know it is to do so ;" and 
Lucy burst into tears. " So long Ave have 
been all the world to each other ! I prefer 
the poorest home and most laborious life 
alone with mamma, to the costliest mansion, 
where there is a master, and where I must 
ever feel myself a dependent." 


So thinking, Lucy snatched up her hat and 
hurried out, for what she hoped might prove 
a sohtary ramble by the sea, whose clear calm 
was in such strong contrast to the tumult and 
confusion in her agitated bosom,. 



MR. Stockton's proposal. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Blair had taken lier seat 
on a sofa in the back drawing-room, Mr. 
Stockton drawing a chair very near to it. He 
was a good deal confused, and seeing this, 
Mrs. Blair kindly tried to help him out of an 
embarrassment which she thought was (under 
the circumstances) out of place and absurd. 

After several remarks on the weather, the 
government, the company at Hastings, and 
their mutual health and looks, an awkward 
silence ensued. 


'' You wished to speak to me on business/' 
said Mrs. Blair, colouring. " On some affair 
of importance, if I mistake n©t ?" 

" Yes ; for an affair of the heart is one of 
the greatest importance, and of course a good 
deal of business is necessarily mixed up with 
it ; but when you consider my age and my 
deficiency in all those youthful graces for 
which the object of my desire is so remark- 
able, you cannot w^onder if I feel, when it 
comes to the point, ashamed of having so 
little to offer in return for so much, that I 
cannot " 

" Oh, Mr. Stockton, you arc too flattering ! 
You overestimate the advantages on one side, 
and underrate them on the other." 

" Do you really think so, madam ? Can 
you conscientiously assert that you do not 
think the disparity of years, and the contrast 
in appearance, monstrous ? And do you not 
tliiiik that the world will cry shame on the 
old man, and say it was a crutl barter of 


youth and beauty for Avealth and posi- 

" No," said Mrs. Blair. '' I think (all 
things considered) the world will call it a very 
well-assorted match." 

"And do you imagine it possible that a 
young creature, in the first bloom of her beauty, 
can be content to live in a common-place 
house, however spacious and richly furnished, 
with an old fogie like me ? Can she give me 
the first love of her heart, the first freshness 
of her affections, that bloom on the grape, 

that dew-drop on the opening bud, that " 

" You cannot," said Mrs. Blair, still quite 
undeceived, " imagine, my dear sir, that the 
first affections of her heart could ever be 

" Good heavens ! why not ?" 
"The widowed mother of a grown-up 
daughter, however young . . . ." 

"Widow! mother! .... what do you 
mean ?" 


" You must be fully aware that I a7}i a 
widow, and mother of Lucy. . . ." 

" You — ^yes, of course, it is as Lucy's mo- 
ther that I have asked you for this interview, 
in order to obtain your permission to declare 
myself to /ler as her suitor." 

" To Lucy ! to my daughter !" exclaimed 
Mrs. Blair. 

" Of course ; did you suppose I wanted to 
propose to yourself?" 

" I did," said Mrs. Blair, covered with con- 
fusion ; aiul at this moment a sneeze, that 
sound which no one can quite contix)!, fol- 
lowed by an irrepressible childish titter, was 
heard, and starting to the spot whence it 
came, Mrs. Blair drew forth from behind the 
ample window-curtains, fighting, kicking, and 
scratching, the little O'Blarucys, they, iit 
their turn, dragging out Baby Bland. 

" You naughty children, I will tell youi- 
mother of you!" said Mrs. Blair. 

" Mamma doesn't caie for you, ultl Widow 
Blair!" said the little girl. 


'' No more do we," cried the boy, making a 
face at her. 

" As for you, Miss Baby Bland, you ought 
to be ashamed of yourself, playing the hoyden 
at your age." 

*' And what ousjht vou to be, then. Widow 
Blair ?" said bold Baby, " making love to 
old fogies at yours, setting your widow's cap 
at his bald head, and getting refused for your 
pains ? — Ha ! ha ! ha !" 

Mr. Stockton, in a great rage, rose, appa- 
rently intending to box Baby's ears, but while 
the rage of the old lover and the confusion of 
Mrs. Blair were extreme, Baby and the 
children rushed out, and then Mr. Stockton, 
calming himself, said — 

" I am very sorry for this absurd misimder- 
standing, Mrs. Blair, and I quite agree with 
you in thinking the mother far better suited 
to me, in many respects, than the daughter ; 
at the same time, as Miss Blair is the only 
woman who has ever awakened in my tough 


old heart the passion of love or the wish to 
be married, we will pass over this painful 
mistake, and I will ask you candidly whether 
you think, were I to propose to your fail- 
daughter, I should have (as a mutual friend 
assured me I should) any chance of accept- 
ance ? I know she has no fortune, and mine 
is large ; a thousand a-year should be settled 
on her lovely self, for her separate use, and 
exevy elegance and luxury of life should sur- 
round her. I should be delighted to offer 
you a permanent home with your daughter, 
as I am certain, from the strong affection I 
have remarked between you, that she would 
])c unhappy were she deprived of your society ; 
but tell me candidly, whether you, her mo- 
ther, believe her to be heart-whole and fancy 
free, as, if so, I shall try my chance ; and if 
not, being in that case certain of I'ailure, 1 
shall leave Hastings at once." 

''She has never told wc of any attachment," 
said Mrs. Blair, "but youhad better ask herself." 


At this moment Lucy, when seeking a lonely 
spot to muse in, having been followed by Dr. 
Glybbe, who had obhged her to listen to a }3as- 
sionate declaration of love and sudden offer of 
marriage, which she at once and perempto- 
rily declined, had parted company with the 
fat Lothario, and had come in, professedly in 
search of her parasol ; and Mrs. Blair, on open- 
ing the back drawing-room door, met her on 
the stairs going to her own room. "Lucy," she 
said, " Mr. Stockton wants to speak to you." 

Lucy, upon this, went in ; they were alone ! 
Mrs. Blair, rather mortified at her mistake, 
and at the publicity that Avould be given to 
it by Baby Bland and the childi'en, had retired 
to her room. Lucy was very much surprised 
when Mr. Stockton, trembling and pale, con- 
fessed his love, and offered her his liand. 
The man she had so dreaded as a step- 
father, proposing himself to her as her hus- 
band ! He was beginning to speak of settle- 
ments, horses, carriages, jewels, and of her 


mother's living with lier, when Lucy stopped 
him by saying — 

" Dear Mr. Stockton, I think so highly of 
you, and I like, respect, and esteem you so 
much, that were my affections disengaged, I 
think I should be much tempted to say ' yes/ 
but I am engaged heart and hand, secretly, 
almost hopelessly perhaps, but still firmlv, 

" And this engagement is concealed from 
your mother?" said Mr. Stockton, disap- 
provingly, shaking his very bald head. 

Lucy owned that it was so, and timidly ex- 
plained the reasons that had made her shrink 
from narrating to her mother the sacrifice she 
had made of love to filial duty, in refusing to 
accompany him she loved to Sydney. 

Mr. Stockton listened attentively, and as 
she spoke with heightening colour and tearful 
eyes, his own cheek was flushed and his own 
admiring gaze was moistened by drops from 
the deep fountain in the kind old heart. 
VOL. n. H 

98 THE DAILY goyeii:jjess. 

" I hope you will be happy," he said ; "I 
pray that your lover may succeed, and prove 
worthy of you. There is an old saying, 
that ' it is better to be an old man's darhng 
than a young man's slave ;' but I hope and 
trust you will be a young man's darling, and 
be as happy as I wish you, happier none 
could be ; and so Heaven bless you and fare- 
well !" 

He raised her hand to his lips, and left the 

At dinner that day Mr. Stockton's place 
was vacant, as was also that of Dr. Lothario 
Glybbe (his medical attendant). 

"What a pity," said Mrs. Bland (to whom 
Baby had revealed everything she had ever 
heard), " they've been fairly hunted out of 
the place !" 

" Hunted !" cried the good-natured Widow 
Dolores ; why, never were two men made 
more of, — almost killed with the kind- 
ness . . . ." 


'' Of certain husband- hunters, " sneered 
Mrs. Bland. 

" And yet," cried Mrs. Green Brown, " they 
are both gone away, to my knowledge, wear- 
ing the willow — rejected suitors." 

And on Mrs. Dolores asking if they were 
not expected at dinner, Lady O'Blarney an- 
nounced that they had left Hastings, and 
were gone, she believed, to NeAvhaven, on 
their way to Dieppe, to winter on the conti- 

" Credat Jiidceus r sneered Mrs. Bland. 

H Ji 




Lucy and her mother felt as if they had 
lost a friend in Mr. Stockton, and all the 
ladies missed their lively beau and general 
favourite, the flirting, flattering Dr. Lothario 
Glybbe. But Mr. Stockton had a double, or 
rather a treble reason for quitting Hastings ; 
not only he felt a sort of awkwardness con- 
nected with Mrs. Blair's mistake, and (keenly 
alive to ridicule as he was) a horror of the 
whole scene between him and Mrs. Blair 
])eing made public by the mischievous Baby, 


but he had a great disincHnation to be in tlie 
presence of Lucy after her rejection of him ; 
and there was yet another lady in the case 
with whom he felt he could never again l)e 
on pleasant or friendly terms. This lady was 
no other than the grim and ascetic Widow 

Much as she professed to de:piss mankind 
and all the vanities of life, she was at heart a, 
decided admirer of the unfair sex ; a resohite 
though unsuspected husband-hunter, and a 
person who cared more for wealth, dress, 
equipage, and the position they give, tliaii 
many an acknowledged coquette. 

Mrs. May had a shrewd idea that Mr. 
Stockton meant to propose for Lucy Blair ; 
she had seen the deep interest with which he 
always watched her graceful movements, ami 
the light that brightened his old eyes at lui- 
approach. She was not deceived ; she knew 
that if a widow old enough to have a grown- 
up daughter by her side makes a conquest, it 


is never of a very old man, but generally of 
one who might be her son ; for it is certain 
that old men even overrate the charm and 
value of youth, because they know by their 
own experience the discomforts and disad- 
vantages of age ; very young men do not, and 
think less of a good they possess. 

Mrs. May felt sure when Baby, who knew 
everything that was going on in the house, 
being famous for hiding behind curtains and 
in closets, and listening at doors, told her that 
Mr. Stockton had requested an interview with 
Mrs. Blair — she knew, we say, that his object 
was to propose for the youthful Lucy, and she 
even promised Baby a new hat, to be se- 
cretly given and received, if she could ascer- 
tain for her exactly what passed at this inter- 
view. Her excuse for this anxiety on the 
subject was in keeping Avith her character. 
She pretended, to Baby Bland, to be influ- 
enced only by concern for old Stockton's soul. 
"It is so sad a sight, Baby Bland," she said, 



" to see that the wiles and coquetries of that 
sly wretch, but thorough coquette, jNIiss Blair, 
have turned that bald head, and filled with 
vanity and folly a mind that ought to be in- 
tent on nothing in this world but preparation 
for the next." 

" But," laughed Baby, " do you think Miss 
Blair means to accept the superannuated 
fogie ?" 

" I shouldn't wonder at all if she did ; but 
at any rate, if she refuses hiiu I dare say 
she'll try to keep him under her influence — 
she'll offer him her friendship, her esteem, or 
some such bait — just to get a hohl of his 
affections and his purse, and probably with a 
deep scheme (as he has neither chick nor 
child) of becoming his heiress." 

'' Well, Mrs. May," said Baby, '' if I tind 
it all out for you, remember you've promised 
to take me to Mrs. Plume's, and let me choose 
any hat in her shop that I like, feathers and 


" Agreed !" said Mrs. May ; " for I may be 
able, by the knowledge of what has passed, to 
save that frail old man from the consequences 
of his folly, and lead him from the broad 
path that leads to destruction, into the narrow 
way. Oh !" she added, aloud, with a groan, 
'' I would much rather follow him as a 
mourner to his grave, than as a guest to his 
Avedding ! So be all eyes and ears, my dear 

" All right," said the romp ; and she hastily 
ensconced herself behind the curtain in the 
drawing-room, and found that the little 
O'Blarneys were already there before her ! 
Whether they were hidden there on their own 
account, or by their mother's order. Baby 
knew not ; but being there, and the new hat 
and feathers in view, she thought it best to 
fraternise with them ; and but for an unfor- 
tunate and irrepressible sneeze, her eaves- 
dropping would have remained undiscovered. 

As it was, she no sooner left the anorrv 


presence of Mr. Stockton and Mrs. Blair, than 
she hastened to Mrs. May to recount all that 
had passed. And though it was a cordial 
and a balm to the malignant Widow May, to 
hear of pretty Mrs. Blair's ludicrous miscon- 
ception and rejection, yet, as Baby's sneeze 
had prevented her ascertaining the result of 
old Stockton's offer to Lucy, the mean May 
positively refused to fulfil her promise of the 
new hat, and Baby, crying with rage and dis- 
appointment, left her to herself. 

" If that chit, Lucy Blair, refuses him, the 
old fool," said Mrs. May to herself, " I may 
yet have a chance. He might not like to 
marry a widow with a grown-up daughter ; 
for, of course, that circumstance dates the 
mother ; but he can have no accurate idea of 
my age, nor can he suspect that I have any 
incumbrances at all. My large family of cliil- 
dren I shall keep carefully out of his ken 
until the knot is tied." 

Mrs. May, by dint of waiting and watch- 


ing, found out that Mr. Stockton and Dr. 
Glybbe were packing up, and then she felt 
sure that the young girl had refused the old 

The door of Mr. Stockton's room was open, 
and Mrs. May's (the adjoining one) being so 
too, she resolved to attract his attention by 
sobs and groans ; these groans and sobs became 
so loud and distressing, that Mr. Stockton, 
having a very kind heart, and no one being 
at that time on that floor, save Mrs. May and 
himself, he went to her door and said : — 

" What's the matter, Mrs. May ? Are you 
ill ? — can I be of any use ?" 

The groans continued louder and louder; 
Mr. Stockton went in. 

Widow May was leaning back in an arm- 
chair in her dressing-room ; her widow's cap 
was on a little table by her side, and a quan- 
tity of black hair (false, but that he did not 
even suspect) enveloped her person and shaded 
her face. One hand covered her eves, the 


other she extended, gasping out, " My heart 
tells me it is Mr. Stockton ! Shut the door, 
dear sir ! I have something of great import- 
ance to reveal." 

Mechanically Mr. Stockton closed the door. 
" Be quick, madam," he said, " I am going, 
and I shall miss the train !" 

" Going," she exclaimed, " alone ?" 
'' Yes, all but Glybbe ; he goes with me." 
"No woman goes Avith you?" she cried, 

" Woman ! — no ! What woman should go 
with me ?" 

" There is but one woman in the workl who 
should go with you, Simon Stockton," she 
said ; " and that is one who woukl gladly de- 
vote herself to the sole task of saving your 
soul ! Do not speak, but licar me ! 1 hav(^ 
watched you long, for I love you, Simon 
Stockton, not with the inipr()|)er love of for- 
ward Mrs. Blair, who wooes you for reasons J 
blush to allude to, nor with the designing 


coquetry of her daughter, who, if she rejects 
you as a husband, thinks to keep you on as a 
friend, whose purse she may command. I 
love you as we love the lost sheep we have 
sought and found, the brand we have plucked 
from the burning, the bird we have saved 
from the foAvler, and sheltered in our bosom ! 
Simon, Simon ! it is your soul I love and care 
for ; my knees are Avorn hard wdth prayers for 
your soul ! This illness which has kept me 
from your presence, has been caused by love 
for your soul ; night and day will I w^atch over 
you, tend you, nurse you, read to you out of 
good books, that may awaken you from your 
long sleep ; take me, then, I am still young, 
and it may be fair, but youth and beauty I 
value, only if they tempt you to make me your 
w^ife, your help-meet, your own. Seek them 
then no more among the idle daughters of this 
sinful world ! . . . Simon Stockton, say, ' Mi- 
riam May, I will make you my wife, and we 
will at once depart together.' " 


She threw back the long black hair (false 
as her heart), and fixing her long cunning 
eyes upon him, held out her long bony hand, 
and drew up her lip in a grim smile, in order 
to display her long white teeth. 

He rose to go, fairly frightened away ; but 
there was a sardonic smile on his face as he 
said : — " Ten thousand thanks for the offer ; 
but when I tell you that the only woman in 
the world whose charms would ever have 
made such an old fool as I am meditate ma- 
trimony, is beautiful Lucy Blair, who has 
just rejected me, you will not marvel at my 
declining your generous offer! Adieu! I hope 
you will spend your time more profitably 
than in watching or praying for such an old 
sinner as I am." 

" No, no ! You shall not go !" shrieked the 
widow, throwing herself on licr kiiees before 
him, and screaming aloml, ''you have com- 
promised my fair fame by entering my dress- 
ing-room alone. AVith what object T know 


not, but yoii shall repair in tlie face of the 
world the injury so publicly done me ! Se- 
ducer ! libertine ! tempter of a lone widow ! If 
YOU do not agree to marry me, I sue you for 
a breach of that promise imphed by your 
presence in what you well know now to be 
the bower of purity and piety. Nay, think 
yourself happy if I do not bring you to jus- 
tice for a crime of a deeper dye !" 

" As you please, madam ; let the law 
decide between us," said Mr. Stockton, tearing 
himself away, while Widow May, still on her 
knees, clung, screaming, to the skirts of his 
coat. At the sound of her cries, Dr. Glybbe, 
who was in search of Mr. Stockton, rushed 

" Bear witness !" cried Widow May. *' He 
has burst into my room, he best knows with 
what intentions, and unless lie proves them 
honourable by mariying me, his victim, I — ■ 
I " 

Mr. Stockton tore himself away, and Widow 


May sank on the floor in a well-sustained 

Upon this, Dr. Glybbe seized the washing- 
jng, and dashed its contents on her face and 
form ; and when she rose, shrieking, furious, 
deluged, but not cooled, to fly at him like a 
Tisiphone, he adroitly backed out of the 
room, and closed the door, when, finding the 
key on the outside, he locked the enraged fail* 
one into her bower, and before anyone came 
to her rescue, Mr. Stockton and himself were 
on their way to Brighton. 

Widow May thought it wisest and best to 
say nothing of this defeat ; and as nothing 
connected with her attempt and failure had 
transpired, to keep her own counsel, and con- 
sole herself with a good dinner. 




Although the Blaiids had been two months 
at Bonvivant House, and they had arrived 
there during the first week in August, tlie 
Aveather was so fine, w^arm, and sunmier-Hke, 
that Hastings continued to fill, not with its 
winter company, w^lio seek it for its snugness 
and shelter, but with ordinaiy sea-side visitors, 
w^ho only preferred Hastings on account of 
the romantic beauty of its suburbs, and the 
exquisite rides and drives with which the 
neighbourhood abounds. 


The bathing still continued to be delightful, 
and daily Lucy and Mrs. Green Brown found 
themselves first in the clutches of Precious 
Betsy, and then floating and sporting on 
the buoyant waves. Both by this time were 
able to dispense with the rope. Mrs. Green 
Brown, buoyant from her superabundant fat, 
could swim a little and float admirably ; and 
Lucy was able to venture out of her depth. 
One day, Lucy, finding the water rather too 
cool to be comfortable, was dressing herself 
in her machine, Mrs. Green Brown having 
in the meantime swum out to some distance. 
Suddenly Lucy heard a piercing cry, which she 
fancied she recognized as Mrs. Green Brown's, 
and hastily opening the door of her machine, 
she saw her friend swimming as for her very 
life back to her machine, closely pursued by a 
fat-faced being in an oil-skin cap of towering 
height, secured under his chin. He had very 
bushy, black whiskers, and was clothed in a 
complete, close-litting suit of scarlet flannel, 

VOL. n. 1 


in which he looked like a huge fresh-boiled lob- 
ster, but his beetle brows, large features, and 
powerful strokes convinced Lucy that her poor 
friend's pursuer was not of the gentler sex. 

The sun was shining full on the face of the 
singular being who was causing Mrs. Green 
Brown so much terror ; and Lucy saw dis- 
tinctly a face she could never forget. His 
eyebrows were like thick round patches of 
black chenille ; his eyes expressed cruelty and 
craft ; he had puffy cheeks and a bottle nose ; 
a grin revealed a frightful gap where his teeth 
should have been, his only dental appendages 
being two solitary eye-teeth that resembled 
the tusks of some wild animal. Lucy gazed 
at him with horror. 

" Wliat can it mean ?" said Lucy to her- 
self; " by what right can any man pursue her 
thus ? That horrid fellow must be a lunatic ; 
his intrusion here is against all the laws of 
propriety, and of this bathing-place. Oh ! 
he must be mad ! Her strength is almost 
exhausted, and lie is gaininof on her !" cried 


Lucy, in her turn, shrieking out in Avikl 
alarm, and crying in her terror for " Betsy, 
Precious Betsy." And half-dressed as Lucy 
was, she threw the rope that was fastened to 
her own machine to Mrs. Green Brown, who 
eagerly clutched at it, and with its aid reached 
the steps of Lucy's machine just as her pur- 
suer, catching hold of the long golden tresses 
that floated on the waves behind her, found 
them, to his dismay and disappointment, part 
company with the head of their wearer, and 
come oft' in his hand. 

While he was staring in amazement at this 
comical misfortune, Mrs. Green Brown, quite 
bald, and blue with cold and terror, clam- 
bered up the steps of Lucy's machine, and was 
eagerly pulled in by Lucy, who fastened the 
door, and hastened to comfort her kind friend, 
and to enquire into the cause of her {darni. 

Meanwhile, Precious Betsy and several of 
her weather-beaten, salted, anq)liibious sister- 
hood, resenting an injury done to the most 

I 2 


liberal of their bathers, assailed the intruder 
with a volley of curses, threats, and rebukes. 

" If you don't know, you're old and ugly 
enough for to know," said Precious Betsy, 
" you rampiant heathen and owdacious fellei-, 
that none of your sect is allowed here." And 
as he still advanced, crying out " Let nie 
speak to thcsstout lady — I must speak to her," 
he was assailed with cries of *' Off! off! Get 
out with ye ! — or we'll tache you better man- 
ners — whatever brought you here ? So you 
can't see a fine ooman a- bathing on her own 
side o' the coast, out of her own machine, and 
with her own Precious Betsy a-taking care 
on her, but you must be arter her, must ye ? 
But off with you back to your boat, which 
tjiere it is a-coming for you." And then, as 
he still persisted in approaching, and in calling 
for the fat lady, Precious Betsy and the sister- 
liood armed themselves with oars from a 
b(mt close by, and Precious Betsy (perha])s 
jneaning only to frighten him away) came 


down upon his head, as he still advanced, 
with a blow that completely stunned him. 
Seeing this, the men who were in the boat 
t't'om which he had spi-ung to swim when first 
he perceived Mrs. Green Brown, who had ven- 
tured out to a considerable distance, came to 
his assistance, and lifted him in as he rose to 
the surface. Then, awed by the angry array 
of excited water-nymphs, armed with oars — 
but with whom they had a strong esprit de 
corps, and felt much more sympathy than 
with any other class of people — they rowed 
off with the offender still insensible. 

Meanwhile, Lucy had admitted Mincing, 
and sent her for all Mrs. Green Brown's toilet 
apparatus, and there she would have left her 
to the secret rites and occult mysteries of hei* 
complicated toilet, but that Mrs. Green 
Brown, still wild with terror, speechless, bhie 
and shivering, clung to Lucy, aiul would not 
let her go. 

Lucy then told Mincuig to send Precious 


Betsy for some brandy ; this administered 
eautiously seemed to restore some degree of 
warmth and consciousness to the shiverinir, 
bewildered Mrs. Green Brown, and when she 
was rubbed dry, dressed, and had swalloAved 
the last drop of brandy in the bottle, she laid 
her poor bald head on Lucy's bosom, and 
l)ursting inta tears exclaimed — 

" Oh, my Lucy, is he gone ? Did he recog- 
nise me ? Did he name me ? or was it only 
his old habit of following every fine woman 
he ever saw — is he gone, or is he watching for 
me r 

" Who do you mean, dear friend !" said 
Lucy ; " that madman, who swam after you 
to this machine ?" 

" Madman !" sobbed Mrs. Green Brown. 
" Oh, Lucy ! did you not guess who he is ?" 

" No, indeed ! I have not the least idea — 
is he not a stranger to you ?" 

" A stranger ! — I wish he were — I wish he 
had always been a stranger to mc ! Oh, 


Lucy ! in that wretch, changed, bloated, 
disfigured, as he is, I recognised the bad 
man who married me only to ill-use me, whom 
I escaped from many years ago, leaving him 
in the Brazils amassing gold to squander on 
his own follies and vices — and whose efforts 
to find me I have hitherto outwitted, but 
who, alas ! is my husband, and has a hus- 
band's right to compel me to endure his 
presence, unless I can again escape from 
him ! — Oh ! Lucy, that man is " 

" Not Mr. Green Brown !" cried Lucy. 

" He is MY HUSBAND ! My own name was 
Green, and the uncle, who, since 1 have been 
away from that wretch, left me all his fortune 
(or rather left it to trustees to pay the interest 
to me), was Brown. I have dropped his hated 
name for fear of his discovering my abode — 
liis name is Blackadder — Crawley Blackadder ! 
Oh !" she cried, wringing her hands wildly, 
" what can have brought him to England, 
except a determination to luint me out, and 


seize upon me again ! And how, oh how- 
shall I escape him ?" 

" Easily," said Lucy ; " I do not think he 
was at all certain that you were his wife. 
How long is it since you saw him ?" 

" Ten years," said Mrs. Green Bro^^ai, for 
we will not call the kind creature Mrs. Craw- 
ley Blackadder ; " and when he saw me last, 
I looked as young and unpretending as you are 
at this moment. But time and good living, 
and a little peace of mind, have done w^onders, 
and made great alterations for the better in 

Lucy smiled, but said, " These alterations 
may prevent his knowing you — and now, I 
advise you to go to bed, and keep quiet. 
The boat he was in was the Firefly, from St. 
Leonards ; he is gone back there, and probably 
in a few days we shall see his name among the 
departures, in the Hastings and 8t. Leonards 
Telegraph — shall I see if he is among the 
arrivals ?" 


" Do !" sobbed poor Green Brown. 

Lucy looked among the arrivals, and tlierc 
found Crawley Blackadder, Esq., and suite, 
from the Brazils, at the Marine Hotel, St. 

It was with very great difficulty that Mrs. 
Green Brown could be persuaded to trust 
herself outside the bathing-machine, although 
Precious Betsy and the whole sisterhood 
assured her that the poor crazed gentleman 
was gone back to St. Leonards in Bill Piper's 
boat, " and with," added Precious Betsy, " a 
good deal more than he bargained for," or 
than she meant to give, " in a crack on the 
skull, that would keep him from swim- 
ming arter a fine ooman for some time to 

Mrs. Brown gave Precious Betsy a sove- 
reign to divide between all who had aided hcM- 
in the rescue, and then sending for a close fly, 
she retumed to Bonvivant House. But so 
uvd'dt to her nervous svstcm w[us the sJKJt-k 


she had received, and so severe the cold she 
liad taken in her protracted terror while still 
iaher wet bathing-dress, and with her bald head 
exposed, that a severe illness ensued ; and in the 
delirium which attended the high fever which 
formed the most dangerous symptom of her 
case, Lucy first discovered how great was poor 
Mrs. Green Brown's dread of this cruel, bad, 
and rapacious , man, how dreadful had been 
his treatment of her, and what good reason 
she had to tremble at the thought of ever 
again falling into his clutches. 

It was two days after the remarkable event 
we have related, that the local paper we have 
alluded to, and which, admirably conducted 
and well- written, is welcomed every Wednes- 
day morning by visitors and residents at 
Hastings, ' St. Leonards, and all adjacent 
places, contained an animated account of what 
it jocosely called " A Novel Swimming 
Race" in the following words : — 

'' On Monday last, as Mrs. G. B., one of our 


visitors, most remarkable for personal attrac- 
tions, liberality, wealth, and generous patron- 
age of this delightful Avatering-place, was 
swimming at a considerable distance from her 
machine, an elderly gentleman, in bathing 
costume, sprang from a boat at some little 
distance ; and, to the horror of this fairest of 
the Oceanides, proceeded to give chace. The 
gentleman was the stronger and more prac- 
tised swimmer, and was fast gaining on the 
' returning fair,' when a young friend of Mrs. 

G. B.'s, known at H as La Belle des 

Belles, who was dressing after her bath in an 
adjoining machine, hearing her friend's 
screams, with great presence of mind threw 
her a rope which was fortunately at hand, by 
aid of which Mrs. G. B. reached her young 
friend's machine, but not until her bold fol- 
lower had caught at the long tresses of what 
ladies call a 'bathing-wig,' which came off in 
his hand ! The gentleman, whose intellect 
we have since heard has been impaired by the 


sun of the Brazils, being still bent on ap- 
proaching the retreat of Mrs. G. B., was 
met by Precious Betsy, so well known as a 
favourite bathing woman, bold, brave, and 
brawny, backed by all the sisterhood, all armed 
with oars. The remarks addressed to the 
elderly gentleman were far from flattering ; 
but as they did not prevent his approaching 
Precious Betsy, intending only to frighten 
him, one of them hit him a blow on the head 
with an oar, which stunned him for a mo- 
ment ; and while quiescent from its effect, 
the ' Fire Ply' of St. Leonard's, which he had 
hired for the purpose of bathing, neared, and 
' Gallant Bill,' with his mates, lifted him in and 
rowed him away from the scene of his defeat 
amidst the triumphant uproar of Precious 
Betsy and the sisterhood. The elderly gen- 
tleman, whose name is Mr. C. B., from the 
Brazils, a person of great wealth and import- 
ance, is quite recovered from the effects of 
Precious Betsv's wrath. But the affair has 


been so much talked of, that we hear he 
has not since appeared in public; and we 
find his name among our list of ' Departures.' 
Mrs. G. E., owing to wounded delicacy, 
alann, and exposure to cold, is confined to 
her bed, seriously ill, at Bonvivant House." 

When Mrs. Green Brown was sufficiently 
recovered to discuss the subject of her hus- 
band's appearance, Lucy, after consulting 
with her mother, showed her the names of 
" Crawley Blackadder and suite" among the 
departures, but did not allude to the account 
in the local papers of the extraordinary and 
ludicrous event. 

" He cannot have recognized me," said 
Mrs. Green BroAvn, " and my heart and spirit 
revive, Lucy. If he even suspected it was 
I, he would not have left the neighbour- 
hood. To obtain any object ho had in view, or 
to gratify any feeling of malice or revenge, 
T have known him lie in wait days and nights. 
His departure convinces nie he did not recog- 


nise me, and I can breathe freely once more. 
Those few words that yon have just read 
me have done me more good than I could 
have derived from the best doctors in the 
world ; and now, my dear Lucy, I shall sleep 
in peace to-night, and to-moiTow I hope 
I shall be able to eat a bit of chicken, and 
take a glass of wine at one o'clock, and a 

drive in the. afternoon A thousand 

thanks to you and your kind mother, poor 
dear hold Blair, for your tender nursing of 
me. I 'ont cry before I'm out o' the 'ood 
but I think I'm next door to it now/' 




Mrs. Blair and Lucy had again and again, 
before Mrs. Green Brown's illness, urged 
upon her tlie necessity of their bringing their 
visit to a close, and putting a stop to the 
enormous outlay they must cause her at so 
expensive a place as Bonvivant House. Mrs. 
Green Brown never would listen to these vv- 
presentations ; she would reply : '* Some have 
one whim ami some anotluT, If 1 don'l 
exceed my income, ^vhy should you hoi her 
me? I'll not outrun the constahh', I'll nio- 


mise you. Civil as Lady O'Blarney is, I 
shouldn't like to be in her debt, I assure you. 
I dare say you've missed Strutt and Stair 
from the dinner-table, haven't you? — Well, 
do you know where they are ?" 

" No. Where ?" asked Lucy — " they 
haven't been here for three or four days." 

" Why, Baby Bland w as hid up in the back 
drawing-room, for some mad prank or other, 
one evening last w^eek, and there she heard 
Major Quickly tell Lady O'Blarney that Strutt 
and Stair had privately taken exciu-sion- 
tickets to Paris, and that he had good reason 
to believe they meant to be off early in the 
morning, w^ithout paying their bill. So he 
offered to get her a writ of Capias, which he 
could do by making oath they were going 
abroad. It was served upon them the day 
before their intended departure, and they 
w^ere marched off to gaol with the tickets 
in their pocket. However, it has all been 
liushed up, as those harsh measures do a 


house of this kind no good ; and had not 
Baby been hidden up while they were talking 
it over, no one would have knowii anything 
about it !" 

" And do you believe," asked Lucy, " they 
really meant to cheat Lady O'Blarney ?" 

'' No, not exactly. It seems they had 
offered her a bill at three months' date ; but 
as she refused it, they meant to send it to her 
from the other side of the w^ater, to point out 
that it Avould be met out of their next 
quarter's salary at the Inland Revenue Office ; 
and, in short, to let her fully understand that 
it was ' 'Obson's choice.' However, I only 
mention it with reference to your fear that 
you're staying 'ere is an hexpense I cannot 
stand. I hassure you I've a good 'ead for 
figures (always 'ad), and if I hexcccd a little 
one way, I stint in aiiother. Hevery 
week Lady O'J^larney and T square accounts, 
and I've got hall her receii)ts liiii my desk ; 
so if anything sliouUl 'appcn to me, Lucy'll 

VOL. ir. K 


know where to look for them. But don't say 
a word about going, for another month, at 
least ; and then I've such a mind to winter 
in Paris, and should be so lost without Lucy 
to talk to the Farley vous for me — that I've 
a plan in my 'ead by which I think we can 
all three go together without you, dear hold 
Blair, an' you, Lucy pet ! feehng all this 
nonsense about expense to me. But w^e will 
talk it over when I've thought a little more 
about it, only just now don't pull such long 

* Let's be merry while we may, 
Since we every day grow older.' 

And what's the hodds so we're happy ?" 

This conversation occurred the very day 
])efore the " Meeting in the waters," and for 
some time after that event Mrs. Green Brown 
was too ill to renew^ it, but she ralhed at once, 
and grew rapidly well, when the papers an- 
nounced the departure from St. Leonards of 
Crawley Blackadder, Esq. and suite ; and 


though no coaxings or cajohngs of Precious 
Betsy could tempt her to bathe again, yet 
gay riding-parties and merry pic-nics were 
once more the order of the day. 

Every beautiful, picturesque, and celebrated 
spot in the neighbourhood of Hastings had 
by this time been visited again and again by 
Lucy and Mrs. Green Brown in their rides or 
drives — Bulverhythe with its lions, the ruins 
of St. Mary the Virgin, so old that the name 
of its founder is forgotten, and the more re- 
cent remains of the good Dutch ship " Am- 
sterdam," which, eighty-six years ago, was 
stranded. George the Good was king and 
Charlotte queen, and that fine family of 
princes and princesses, some of them very hand- 
some in spite of their retreating foreheads and 
chins, their full eyelids, and light eyelashes, 
was the pride of the nation at that time. 
Yes, the " Amsterdam" has been buried in 
those sands since George, Pnncc of Wales, then 
the glass of fashion and the mould of form, 

K 2 


was in love with Mrs. Robinson, whom he first 
saw^ as Perdita, and to whom he wrote a billet- 
douse signed Florimel. At that time the beau- 
tiful Princess Amelia was the good king's 
darling, with her large light blue eyes and 
long flaxen hair ; and though they have all 
dropped into the grave now, they were 
then all young, beloved, rosy, well groAvn, 
and full of health and hope. Yes, it was in 
-those days the "Amsterdam" ran on shore in 
a fog, and still at low water her ribs are seen 
projecting above the sands, and people who 
want an object for a ride or drive, go out to 
see her, or make Boxhill, with its extensive 
views and pleasant seclusion, their goal, or 
Pevensey, so rich in historical associations as 
the spot where William of Normandy landed, 
and its Roman castle, the most perfect place 
of the kind in England. Lucy was never 
weary of visiting the beautiful and interesting 
haunts which abound near Hastings. Some- 
times llurstmonceaux Castle, with its endless 
courts, galleries, private staircases, and towers, 


delighted her most ; at another tmie she loved 
to toil up to the topmost heights of Fairlight, 
whence she could distinctly see on a fine even- 
ing the ruins of six castles, the spires of fifty - 
eight churches, sixteen towers, and the cliffs of 
La belle France. Sometimes she would walk 
with her dear mother to Hollington Church, 
delighting in its seclusion from all human 
habitations, and in the lovely peculiarity of 
its situation, placed as it is in the middle of a 
wood. The old town of Battle, with its an- 
cient abbey, and the fish-ponds, the Dripping 
Well, Fairlight Glen, Old Roar, and, above 
all, the Lover's Seat, had been favourite 
haunts of Lucy's ever since her arrival at 
Hastings ; and as soon as Mrs. Green Brown 
felt strong enough to enjoy a drive, Lucy 
proposed to her that they should revisit the 
Dripping Well and the Lover's Seat. Mrs. 
Blair, fvho was busily engaged in finishing a 
triumph of skill, namely, the making an old 
dress look " amaist as gude's the new," had 


begged to be excused forming one of the 
party ; and Lucy and Mrs. Green Brown set 
out in the comfortable brougham of the former 
to visit the spots so dear to Lucy's artist 
eye and poet fancy. Mrs. Green Brown was 
in high spirits ; she was always delighted to 
have her darling Lucy to herself; in reality, 
the presence of " dear hold Blair," as she 
called her, was rather a restraint upon her 
reminiscences of girlish triumphs, descrip- 
tions of her beauty, dress, lovers, balls, con- 
quests, and details of wedded misery, and 
the cruelties and delinquencies of *' that man," 
as she always called her husband. 

It was now October, but an October which 
united the charms of spring, simimer, and 
autumn. The fruit-trees were laden with 
their ruddy treasures, the vines were hung 
with amethystine clusters, the foliage boasted 
every variety of rich and beautiful tinf^ and 
yet the hedges and lanes were full of wihl 
flowers, and the emerald velvet of the sod 


was studded with daisies, ladies' fingers, and 

The day had been for October almost sul- 
try, and as the sky was without a cloud, 
every object in the distance bathed in a 
rosy mist, and every height gilded with 
sunshine, Lucy, though she felt a little sad, 
and fearful of she knew not what, resolved, 
in such a scene of beauty and with so kind 
a friend by her side, not to let her thoughts 
dwell on what had haunted her a great deal 
of late when watching by ]\Irs. Green Brown's 
sick-bed, her lover's silence and uncertain fate, 
and her oavu clouded, undefined, and threat- 
ening future. 

Mrs. Green BroAvn was very full of her 
Paris schemes, and of course Lucy, who luul 
only passed through the *' City of Delights," 
liked to hear of an " Appartement in the 
Quartier Anglais, lined with mirrors briglit 
with gilding, fit for a queen," (and looking into 
the gardens of the Tuik^'ics,) tlic Louvre, tlic 


Bois de Boulogne, and all the enchantments 
of a season in Paris with her mother and Mrs. 
Green Brown. 

" But how can I ever repay you, dear 
friend ?" she would say ; " I feel as if instead 
of all this luxury, and ease, and enjoyment, I 
ought to be working hard at my ungrateful 

" What, plodding along in all weathers and 
knocking at doors with a single knock, or 
next to one, and spoiling your health, your 
temper, and your looks with the drudgery of 
teaching such little stubborn himps like the 
Amilton Treemes ! ... No, Lucy ! long 
before I saw you I'd thought of finding some 
nice, clever, pretty young lady with a step- 
mother, or something that made her un'appy 
at 'ome, and treating her like a sister, while 
'iring her as a companion. You shall be that 
young lady, Lucy ; you have been that com- 
panion ever since we've been here ! I shall 
reckon your pay (thirty pounds a-year) from 


the day you arrived at 'astiiigs, and as we 
have gone on, so Ave'll continue to go on till I 
give you up, which I dare say will be only 
too soon, to some one who won't love you 
better, whatever he may profess, but will make 
you mistress of a fine 'ouse, and keep you a 
carriage of your own. And now, my dear, if 
you think we've had a long enough drive, 
\ve'll tell the coachman to turn the 'osses' 
heads ; and though I'm not much of a climber, 
as you know, still, as I don't like you to go 
alone, you shall give me your harm, and while 
the charrot w^aits for us we will go and take a 
last fond look at the Dripping Well, Fair- 
light Glen, and the Lover's Seat. Ah, I 
'aven't told you, Lucy, that I'm writing a 
hepic on that subject, and I mean the profits 
to go to 'elj) to provide the wedding trous- 
seau of a certain young friend of mine, who 
I dare say'U catch the heye that twinkles in 
the 'ead of the French nation, and roves after 
hevery pretty girl it lights on. I've no 


doubt 'is Imperial Majesty '11 take great notice 
of us, my dear, and 'ave us to 'is ball, and 
give us hopera boxes, and 'eaven knows 
what ; but if 'e goes too far I shall give him a 
box in return on 'is himperial Majesty's 
Imperial hear. He knows a fine woman 
when 'e sees 'er, but 'e must keep 'is dis- 
tance with me, hi can tell 'im ; and hi aren't 
going to play my cards so as to make the 
hempress jealous, as she was of that Italian 
beauty, who was just in my style, and who 
got banished from the Tooleries for casting a 
sheep's heye at the Hemperor ! ... Hit 
requires some tact, hi can tell ye, Lucy, to 
keep in with 'im and 'er at once. Now, my 
dear, we'll get out 'ere. Give me your harm, 
and tell the coachman to wait for us 'ere." 

It was some time before Mrs. Green Brown, 
even with the help of Lucy's arm, reached 
the top of the picturesque heights that lead 
to the Dripping Well ; and then there was 
some difficulty hi squeezing her (enormously 


stout as she was, and with her exaggerated 
hoops and crinoKne) through the turnstile at 
the end of the lane. When this was accom- 
plished, Lucy, looking up at the sky, saw, to 
her dismay, that the turquoise blue of the 
heavens was in part overspread by clouds 
that were careering about as if some import- 
ant event was in progress among them. Lucy 
was no bad judge of the weather, poor child ! 
She had been so much exposed to it during 
her drudgery as a daily governess, that she 
had learnt to watch the clouds, and though 
she dared not mention her fears to Mrs. Green 
Brown, who was very superstitious, and mor- 
bidly afraid of a storm, yet she felt nervous 
at the idea that one was probably threatening, 
and that if it should burst they might be 
drenched to the skin before they could reach 
the carriage. Still, Lucy did not dare to 
communicate her fears, for she felt quite sure 
that at the slightest hint of danger Mrs. Green 
Brown would be completely paralysed witli 


the dread of thunder and lightnmg, and of a 
bolt falhng on what she called her devoted 'ead. 
Then, too, Mrs. Green Brown was gorgeously 
arrayed in anew moire antique of delicate mauve, 
a rich lemon-coloured silk mantle, covered with 
lace, a new white fancy straw hat, with white 
and mauve feathers, and altogether most ex- 
pensively got up ; gloves, boots, parasol, and 
all being bran new. What then would be her 
despair at the prospect, not of a wetting 
merely, but a perfect drenching. Lucy could 
only hope by pleading fatigue to shorten the 
excursion, and regain the carriage before the 
gathering clouds around burst. 

Unluckily Mrs. Green Brown, with her 
' hepic ' in view, was bent on gaining ' The 
Lover's Seat,' and turned a deaf ear to all 
Lucy's complaints of weariness and expres- 
sions of a wish to return. " Ah," she said, 
" don't tell me, I'm too old a bird to be caught 
by chaiF. You think I'm going beyond my 
strength, but you're mistaken, my dear ; I feel 


as fresh as a kitten, so come on. See, we are 
at the Dripping Well, there let's sit down a mi- 
nute, and then push on for the Lover's Seat. 
I'll neither be helped nor hindered, I must 
get there to give the last touches to my 

Lucy found remonstrance vain, and as the 
sky did not seem to darken, and the soughing 
and sobbing of the winds had ceased a little, 
she, while Mrs. Green Brown took out her 
MS., begun- to gather a bouquet of wihl 
flowers, and for this purpose descended the 
winding path that led to the Dripping Well. 

It was so late in the season that this favour- 
ite resort of pleasure-hunters was quite de- 
serted, and yet Lucy thought that it liad never 
looked so lovely. The perpetual dripping of 
the clear crystal-like water ke})t everything 
green and fresh, and Lucy, in her intense de- 
light in the singular beauty of this romantic 
spot, was soon lost to all frars of storms and 
troubles, when she heard Mrs. GreiMi Hrowu 


calling to her to follow her ; " not to be hidling 
there among the h evergreens, but to put her 
best leg foremost, and come and 'elp her up 
the 'eights to the Lover's Seat." 

In a moment TiUcy was by her side. They 
passed the brow of the hill, made their way 
among the shrubs and underwood, and reached 
the summit of a steep cliff, which, from its 
topmost height to its very foot, was richly 
clothed in lovely and varied foliage. 

Mrs. Green Brown sunk down on the new 
seat, fixed where formerly stood one placed 
by a loving girl, aided only by a humble 
and devoted servant maid, to which seat 
the touching and romantic history which gives 
its melancholy interest to this exquisite spot 
is linked. 

That seat, which woman's love had placed 
there, was destroyed by the countless names cut 
into it by the crowds of pilgrims that resorted 
to it, not merely to visit the shrine of Love 
and SorroAv, but to hand down to postcritv 


the tribute of their names. No wilder, more 
extensive, or enchanting view can meet the 
eye of the lover of nature, than that spread 
before those who, after climbing this romantic 
height, look from the Lover's Seat on the 
varied beauties of hill and dale, sea and sky, 
spread before them, 

Lucy, who in her childhood had seen all 
the loveliest spots in continental Europe, 
thought, as she gazed, that this surpassed 
them all ! 

Then, on the east, some almost perpendi- 
cular and precipitous, and some receding and 
gently sloped, were hills, all clothed with ver- 
dure from summit to base, then came rugged 
rocks, quite bare (interspersed between these 
green declivities), and of that rich red brown, 
which gives such warmth and depth of tone 
to the scenery around Hastings. 

On one of these giant rocks is the signal 
station of Fairlight, on the liglit the romantic 
glen, watered by a silver winding stream, 


which at the top breaks into a fantastic water- 
fall — a miniature Niagara — and lower down, 
spouts and spurts again and again, resembling a 
watery coronet dashed from the brow of the hill. 
Far off in the distance, the stern old craggy 
cliffs of Hastings seem to guard the lovely 
little town sheltered in its bosom, and the 
sea in all its moods, whether intensely blue, or 
calm as a summer sky, or gently rippled, like 
an infant's face in its dimpled slumber, or 
wildly tossing as if in jealous rage, or slowly 
heaving with a sullen swell, like a wronged 
one's breast — in all its moods — ever varying yet 
still the same. Old as Creation's self, yet ever 
new ! Playful yet terrible, now heaving the 
gliding vessels gently on her breast, as a fond 
mother her smiling child ; now tossing them 
from her, or seeking to engulf them in her 
wrath, as if every wave was an avenging 
spirit let loose to destroy. 

Lucy thought, as she gazed, that no inland 
scene — no, not the vale of Chamoimi, with 


Mont Blanc, rosy in the sunrise, or the Tete 
Noire, with all the dark sublimity of its gran- 
deur, — could equal the scene on which she 
ever and anon gazed, entranced, as she sat on 
the Lover's Seat, and read aloud to Mrs. Green 
Brown, from the pretty little Guide-book in 
her hand, the following graphic history of 
that spot, and the legend which flings round 
its actual and vivid beauty all the haunting 
associations and soft magic of the Past. 

Mrs. Green Brown listened attentively, for 
the sake of her ' hepic ;' and Lucy, in her 
sweet voice and engaging natural manner, 
read as follows : — 

" The melancholy and romantic tale of the 
Lover's Seat is not a fiction. It was placed 
in its perilous situation by the heroine of the 
tale, assisted by a servant in her confid^jnce. 
Its principal incidents happened in the early 
part of the war ending in 1814, the heads of 
which we will relate. 

"Captain L b, a native of the neighbour- 



ing town of Rye, paid his addresses to Miss 
B., also of the same place ; after a tirae, for 
some cause or other known only to them- 
selves, the friends of the lady objected to the 
match; and to secure her from the visits of the 
gentleman, she was sent to reside with a friend 
at Fairlight-place, at that time a farm-house ; 
but asherloverhad the command of the 'Stag,' 
revenue cutter, cruising from Dungeness to 
Beachy Head, and consequently often passed 
Fairlight, she embraced every opportunity that 
offered to walk down to the cliffs at Covehurst, 
anxiously looking out over the expanse of 
ocean, in hopes of discovering the cniiser 
among the numerous craft. 

" On a beautiful summer evening, she, as 
usual, seated herself on a rock immediately 
over the present seat, gazing with intense in- 
terest on the barks that ever and anon made 
their appearance from behind the points of 
land that jutted into the sea on either side ; 
light and fleecy clouds were sailing slowly on 


the brightening sky, the sea beneath lay hushed 
in a calm, the queen of night was rising with 
remarkable brilliancy, the highest hills glitter- 
ing with her light, which shortened the gi- 
gantic shadows of the cliffs, which a short 
time before had stretched far over the waters ; 
high and higher still the light of heaven rose, 
then full and broadly fell its beams upon the 
wide expanse of ocean, as if to herald the 
approach of the cutter, for at that moment she 
rounded the eastern point, ghding along and 
nearer to the shore than usual. The lady im- 
mediately arose, and waved the kerchief which 
had so often fluttered in the breeze to no 
purpose, fear beating high that it might again 
prove so ; but all at once the bark heaved to, 
the galley was lowered, and figures were seen 
getting in and rowing rapidly towards the 
shore. It was a moment of deep and thrilling 
delight. Almost as soon as tlie boat touched 
the beach, she could discern the form of her 
lover hastening up the cliff's, forcing his way 


through the thick underwood which every now 
and then stopped his progress, till at last he 
gained the summit — 

" She rose — sbe sprang — she clung to his embrace, 

Till his heart heaved beneath her hidden face. 
* * * * 

Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms, 
In all the wildness of dishevelled charms ; 
Scarce beat that bosom where his image dwelt, 
So full — that^feeling seemed almost unfelt." 

Btron. — The Corsair. 

" Suffice it to say, that for a time all things 
went on well; their visits to the spot were 
long and frequent. Certainly there was a 
whispering of suspicion on the part of her 
friends that all was not right, causing them 
to look strictly after her wanderings ; but this 
was at last lulled to sleep, and not again 
awakened till the astounding news came that 
the crew^ of the Stag had landed at Covehurst, 
and guarded the two lovers to Hollington 
Church, where they were married. 

" Some little time after this event, Captain L. 


quitted His Majesty's service, and cruising 
about channel in his yacht in the month of 
December, was overtaken by a storm, in the 
midst of which, and whilst busying himself 
with the sailors in making all secure about the 
vessel, a wave broke upon deck, and he wr.s 
washed overboard. The storm at that time 
raging at its height, no assistance could he 
rendered, and he sunk to rise no more. 

** Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell. 
Loud shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave." 

" The news came home like the stroke of 
death to his hapless partner ; reason almost left 
her throne ; nought now could charm, none 
could take from off her heart that load, none 
could minister to the mind distressed, save 
one — her child, who is now the mother of 
a family, residing not far from Hastings, on the 

London Road, the wife of the Rev. ; 

and she did seem gently to win her back, un- 
conscious to the world, until her mind showed 
symptoms of returning peace. An interest 


came, an interest in her child — glad naturc 
once more smiled, and all around seemed 
mantling into joy, but never more put on that 
bright and glowing look it wore in other days. 
Some years after this, she resided for a time at 
No. 11, Marine Parade, and once more visited 
the spot." 




Mrs. Green Brown, who was very senti- 
mental, and had a deep feeUng for all lovers, 
unhappy ones especially, was deeply affected 
at this simple story. 

" I wish there were time, my dear, for me 
to read you my hepic," she said, " but it's 
getting late, and I fancy it's suddenly become 
very dark ; and look how the boughs wave 
and sweep about, and how inky tlie sea looks, 
and how creamy is the frotli on the waves. 
The sea-gulls, too, how they are whirling and 


cawing about. I 'ope we're not going to be 
caught in a storm, and me in my new mauve 
moire hantique, and this little stylish 'at and 

" I think," replied Lucy, " there will be a 
storm, but that if we make haste we may 
reach the carriage before it bursts. If you 
are rested, let us set off at once ; going down 
hill is so much easier than toiling up." 

" Ah, so you'll say, my dear, w^hen once 
you're turned twenty j easier, but not pleasanter, 
I can tell you. I 'ope that wasn't thunder ; 
if I hear a peal of thunder or see a flash of 
lightning, I shall be so upset, I shan't be 
able to put one foot before another." 

By this time they were half way down the 
hill, and a few drops, large heavy drops, began 
to fall. 

A clump of trees offered a temporary shelter, 
while Mrs. Green Brown turned her new 
mauve moire antique inside out, and drew 
it^ like a large hood, over her new hat. Lucy, 


who was in a white muslin dress and scarf, 
and a brown straw hat, had no finery to take 
care of, and her only anxiety was to get Mrs. 
Green Brown back to the carriage before some 
vivid flash of lightning or terrific clap of 
thunder caused her a degree of terror that 
would deprive her of all power of locomotion. 

Lucy had seen her in paralyzing terror from 
the dread of thunder, and the fear of seeing 
her again in a similar state was now busy at 
Lucy's heart. 

" It's very dark and lonely here ; not a soul 
to be seen," said Mrs. Green Brown. " If 
any footpads or robbers came upon us here, 
what should we do ?" 

" We must give them all we have about 
us," said Lucy, smiling. "I suppose that 
would content them. They wouldn't want, 
like Claude Duval, to make us dance a co- 
ran te with them in the rain ; nor would our 
charms so captivate them that they would re- 
solve to carry us off." 


"Oh, I don't know that !" said Mrs. Green 
Brown. " I wish we 'adn't to go through that 
wood ; I thought I heard a whistle." 

Lucy had heard it too, and she knew not 
why it made her heart beat quick and her 
cheek grow pale; for any visitor to this 
favourite spot might be whistling for his dog. 

" Let us get through the w^ood as quickly 
as possible,", she said, " it is a mere step, and 
then a few minutes will bring us to the car- 

" I feel all of a tremble," said ^Irs. Green 
Brown, leaning against the trunk of a large 
old oak. " Wliat's the matter, child ? What 
are you glaring at ? What do you see ? 
You're as white as a curd ! Speak ; w^hat 
is it ? what can there be up in that tree to 
frighten you so?" 

" Look ! look !" gasped Lucy. " Or rather 
run ; run for your Hfe ! Once out of the wood, 
we may escape !" 

" Escape what ! What have you seen ?" 


Lucy pointed up into the tree again, as she 
whispered — 

" I have seen your husband !" 

And it was true. 

Peering down at her from among the boughs 
was that face, Avhich once to see was never to 
forget, with the eyebrows Uke patches of black 
chenille, the fierce small eyes so close together, 
the fungus nose, the pufiy cheeks, the eye- 
teeth like tusks, the broad, brawny form, and 
the cruel, crafty, malicious grin. 

" Run ! Let us run for our lives !" cried 

" Stir at your peril !" cried Mrs. Green 
Brown's husband, rapidly descending tlie 
branches of the tree. " Move from this spot, 
and by this Colt's revolver, which I carry in 
my breast, the backs you shew me shall be 
riddled with bullets." 

He put a whistle to his hideous lips, and in 
a minute Mrs. Gi'ecn Brown and Lucy were 
surrounded by men, one of them a policeman. 


two English servants, and three Brazilians with 
copper-coloured skins and vindictive rolling 

Mrs. Green Brown, wild with terror, threw 
herself shrieking aloud into Lucy's arms. 

Lucy, pale as death, but quite still, and 
preserving her presence of mind, even at that 
terrible moment, said, " Policeman, I appeal 
to you for protection. It is your duty to pro- 
tect this lady and myself." 

Mrs. Green Brovm, rallying a Kttle at this, 
cried, " Yes, policeman, protect us from these 
ruffians ; see us safe home, and I will give you 
twenty pounds !" 

" I'm here, ma'am," said the policeman, 
"to see you safe home. A wife's home is 
with her lawful husband ; and as for a bribe, 
I scorn it !" 

He was bribed, and highly, too, for all that 
idle boast. 

'' Gome, my men !" cried the husband, 
" and you, policeman, do your duty. This 


woman is my wife, my rmiaway wife — let her 
deny it if she can." 

" If you ain't the genehiian's wife, speak 
out and say so !" said the policeman. 

" I do not say," gasped Mrs. Green Brown, 
" that, in law, I am not his wife, but his 
cruelty has driven me from him. He has 
struck, pinched, and even bitten me ; his 
conduct to me has been so shameful that it 
is impossible for me to live with him !" 

" Lor, that was all his play," said the po- 
liceman. "Them's games that are always 
going on with man and wife. I loves my 
good 'ooman better nor myself, but when my 
dander's up, I'd make a little o' knocking her 
down, giving her a dowse in the chops, or a 
taste o' the rope, as nothink at all. Come 
along, ma'am ; forgive and forgit, kiss and be 
friends. There ain't many Avivcs have got 
such a fine, free-spoken, open-handed, rich 
gentleman to make much on 'cm I'm raire 
I should have thought he'd have been your 


tea and toast, that's what I should. Come, 
marm, come along willing ! we don't want to 
use no force." 

" But we must," cried the husband. "I know 
her of old ; a mule can't match her for obsti- 
nacy ! What, ye thought you'd outwitted me, 
did ye ? Ye thought I did not know ye ! 
ye believed I'd left the game in your hands — 
eh ? Why, you fool, you ought to have known 
me better. When did I ever give up or give 
in ? I've been on the watch for you for weeks 
past ! You'll run away from me again, won't 
ye ? see if I let you have a chance. You're 
my runaway wife, madam. You ran away 
with my money in your pocket, and my 
clothes on your back, and now, after lead- 
ing a rollicking life as a grass wddow for two 
years, I've got you at last ; and I won't pay 
ye out, eh ? oh, dear no ! I dare say not. 
Come along ! policeman, do your duty !" 

" Lucy ! Lucy ! oh save me !" cried Mrs. 
Green Brown. 


" Policeman," said Lucy, " you have heard 
that man threaten this lady ; if you help him 
to carry her off by force, whatever dreadful 
result ensues, you're answerable for it." 

" He'll kill me, policeman !" shrieked Mrs. 
Green Brown. " You've no right to help him 
in this act of violence, police !" 

" Why, you ain't legally separated, are you, 
marm ?" said the policeman. " You can't 
say as you are, so what wiolence can there be? 
You're a runaway wife, and lie've got you 
back, and he's a right to pay ye out if he don't 
endanger life and limb — that's law !" 

" The law will not sanction his violence," 
said Lucy; *'and you, policeman, may yet 
be called to account, for he'll kill her." 

" Lor love ye, not he, — or only with kind- 
ness," said the policeman. " And as for you, 
miss, wait till you're married (which it won't be 
long first, Avith your handsome face), and then 
see whether you'll be such a fool as to run 
away from a good husband as keeps you like 


a lady, because when his monkey's up he 
might larrup you a bit, or give ye a dowse o' 
the chops !" 

" Police ! and you my men!" cried Crawley 
Blackadder, " no more palaver. If my 
lawful wife won't come with me by fair 
means, she shall by foul. Stand off, you young 
vampire !" he said fiercely to Lucy, who clung 
to her poors friend. "It's blood-sucking 
toadies and parasites like you that back a 
wife up in her disobedience to her laAvful 
husband. Come, my men !" 

At this moment a terrific flash of forked 
lightning, followed instantaneously by the 
loudest clap of thunder Lucy had ever heard, 
startled even the ruffians who were preparing 
to carry off Mrs. Green Brown by force, and 
her dread of the storm being greater even 
than that of her husband, she sank on her 
knees in prayer that the bolt might yet be 

" Now, my men," said her husband, while 


the rain fell in torrents ; "a little way oft' 
stands her carriage — my carriage, for what's 
hers is mine, and what's mine's my own. 
Bring her along, if she won't walk !" 

" Don't fear, dear friend,"cried Lucy; "your 
coachman won't drive this ruffian, vour foot- 
man won't obey him !" 

" That shows your ignorance of law, my little 
dear," said Mr. Crawley Blackadder. " They 
know that their mistress's husband is their 
master. I've told them the rights of the story, 
and so has my good friend the pohceman here. 
They know who's who, and what's what, by 
this time. Lift her up, bring her along !" 

And so, shrieking and calling on Lucy, who 
could not help her, Mrs. Green Brown was 
dragged along to her carriage, forced in and 
driven off". The policeman and Mr. Crawley 
Blackadder getting inside, and the other at- 
tendant miscreants crowding outside the ve- 
hicle, Lucy following in helpless agony as slie 
heard her poor friend calling her. 



But the carriage was soon out of sight, and 
there stood Lucy, drenched to the skin, alone 
in that remote, secluded spot, while the forked 
lightning flashed, and the thunder pealed, and 
the wind blew, and the rain fell in torrents ; 
and yet, in the midst of all this danger and 
discomfort, she wept not for herself, but for 
the poor, kind, simple friend, in the power of 
a lawful tyrant and legalised tormentor. 




Lucy was yoiuig, strong, active, and in 
blooming health, and in spite of the storm, 
she made her way back to Hastings ; and at 
the old London road entrance meeting a fly, 
she got in and was driven back to Bonvivant 

By this time the storm had abated, the sun 
had come out, and a glorious rainbow spanned 
the sea and sky, and seemed 

" A mid-way station given 
For happy spirits to alight 
Between this earth and heaven." 

The visitors at Bonvivant House, who had 

M 2 



been kept in by the storm, were all assembled 
on the balcony to look at the rainbow, when 
Lucy's fly drove up ; and when, drenched, 
pale, scared, and her eyes red with weeping, 
she stepped out. Major Quickly having rushed 
down to assist her to alight, all felt that some- 
thing terrible had happened. 

Her mother, in her turned silk, forgot its 
triumphs, and^ joined the rest of the party in 
crowding round Lucy, and eagerly enquiring, 
AVliat had become of Mrs. Green Brown ? — 
of the carriage, the servants ? — what brought 
Lucy home in a fly, wet through, and in 
tears ? 

Lady O'Blarney was the most anxious of 
questioners ; but before Lucy had decided 
what to say, kind Mrs. Dolores had inter- 
posed, saying — 

" Before Miss Blair answers any questions, 
let her get her wet clothes ofi". Youll be her 
death if you keep her standing here in this 
draught, wet to the skin," 


Mrs. Blair had a fire in her room, for she 
had been ironing ribbons and trimmings ; and 
hearing this, Mrs. Dolores, kind and strong, 
almost carried Lucy up-stairs, and ringing for 
a foot-bath of hot water, began to help her off 
with her wet clothes, while Mrs. Blair looked 
out dry garments ; and Mrs. May told Mrs. 
Bland that she was quite certain something 
dreadful had happened to that " child of 
Belial, Mrs. Green Brown, and that her sins 
had brought down a judgment on her own 
head and on Bonvivant House." 

When Lucy was a little recovered, and 
arrayed in dry clothes. Lady O 'Blarney sent 
to request she would come down, as they all 
felt great anxiety as to the cause of her re- 
turning alone ; and Mincing was in strong 
hysterics in the housekeeper's room, having 
all day long been haunted by a dream she had 
had that a wild beast had devoured her 

'* What can I tell them, mamma ?" asked 


Lucy, — who had whispered to her mother 
while Mrs. Dolores went to fetch her a glass 
of wine — " that Mrs. Green Brown has been 
seized and carried off by her husband and his 
attendants, aided by a policeman ?" 

" Tell the truth, my love," replied the simple 
Mrs. Blair; "the truth may be blamed, but 
can't be shamed. It is no fault of yours, and 
it is your duty to tell all you know. Perhaps 
Major Quickly may be able to advise some- 
thing to assist poor Mrs. Green Brown in this 
extremity. Tm sure she might easily get her 
divorce from Sir Cresswell Cresswell and the 
New Matrimonial and Divorce Court." 

Every one crowded round Lucy, who, still 
pale and agitated, related what had happened, 
weeping bitterly as she recalled the piercing 
shrieks and heart-rending appeals of her poor 

" I always thought Mrs. Green Brown was a 
widow," said Lady O'Blarney, getting very red. 
" Did you knowshe had a husband, Miss Blair?" 


Lucy owned she did. 

" I wish people wouldn't pass for what 
they're not, but just what they are, and go 
by their right names," said Lady O'Blarney ; 
" it would be better for parties, and much 
more respectable. I dare say we'll never see 
Mrs. Green Brown, or whatever her name is, 
again, and who am I to look to for payment 
of all she owes ?" 

At this moment Mincing rushed in, weeping 
bitterly, to know what was become of her 

"What is to become of me, not her?'' 
said Lady O'Blarney ; " wdio am I to look 

'' I understood from Mrs. Green Brown," 
said simple Mrs. Blair, "that slie squared 
accounts every week with you, Lady O'Bhu-- 
ncy, and kept the receipts in her writing- 

Lady O'Blaniey exchanged a glance with 
Major Quickly, who shortly after left the room. 


" I consider the whole disgraceful affair a 
jiidginent/' said Mrs. May ; " and so that 
bold, flauntering, coquettish creature was a 
runaway wife after all !" 

" She is the best and kindest creature in 
the world for all that," said Lucy. 

" Ah, that she is," replied Mrs. Blair. 

" Oh ! I don't wonder, ma'am, you hold 
with her," said Mrs. May. " Birds of a 
feather flock together, ma'am." 

"What do you mean by that, Mrs. May?" 
said Lucy. " Do you mean to imply that my 
mamma is a runaway wife ?" 

" Show me your company, and I'll tell you 
who you are," said Mrs. May. 

" Come, come, ladies !" said Major Quickly, 
coming in at this moment, buttoning up his 
pocket, " the dinner waits ; we must not 
allow this unfortunate circumstance to spoil 
our appetites, or to destroy the harmony of 
our now contracted circle. We have a de- 
lightful addition to our party to-day, in a 


London gentleman of legal celebrity ; and it 
is possible that lie may be able to advise us 
what to do for our poor friend, if, indeed, 
anything can be done. But as the poor dear 
lady is not legally separated from her hus- 
band, and has, it appears, run away from home, 
I fear her case admits of no legal interference. 
Mrs. Blair, permit me to offer you my 
arm. Miss Blair, you will be better after 

Lucy would gladly have absented herself, 
but the Major, taking her hand, drew it within 
his arm. 

The fish and soup had been served, and 
Major Quickly had expressed his surprise at 
the non-appearance of the expected legal 
celebrity, when the door was thrown open, a 
little marmoset-like man bustled up to Lady 
O'Blarney to apologize for being late — and 
Lucy felt her heart sink within her {is she re- 
(;ognized lier odious tormentor, Slimy Coil. 

Mrs. Blair no sooner beheld the new comer 


than a sudden pallor overspread her features. 
Everything swam around her, and Major 
Quickly, springing to her assistance, was just 
in time to catch her as she fell back in a 
swoon. Seeing this, Lucy rushed to her mo- 
ther's assistance. As soon as Mrs. Blair was 
a little recovered, both she and Lucy excused 
themselves from re-appearing at table, and 
retired to their own room. That Lucy should 
be annoyed by the appearance of Slimy Coil 
was to be expected, but why her mother should 
have been so agitated was a mystery even to 

To her questions her mother rephed '' that 
she had recognised in the stranger a person 
she had known in her youth, and who had been 
intimately associatedwith much early suffering. 
I should not like to meet him," said Mrs. 
Blair, " and I am in hopes he did not see me; 
but as I understand he goes to-morrow% it 
will not make much difference. I can keep 
my room while he is here." 


" And I will keep you company, dear 
mamma," said Lucy, explaining in her turn 
that he was that odious attorney of Sir Ha- 
milton Treherne's of whom she had often 
spoken to her mother. " I believe he is only 
expected to stay here one day, but he is so 
spiteful and mischievous, . that even in that 
short time I doubt not he will make it gene- 
rally known here that I was, and that very 
recently, that despised, miserable, dependent 
creature, a Daily Governess ; and though I 
know that I ought not to be ashamed of an 
honest calling, yet I own I am weak enough 
to dislike my secret being made known to the 
Blands, to Mrs. May, and to Lady O'Blarney. 
It will make my stay here very painful to me, 
but at any rate I do not sec how we can re- 
main here if nothing is heard of or from our 
poor friend. Do you not think we ouglit to go 
at the conclusion of the Aveek — that is the dny 
after to-morrow, nianiiiia ?" 

" Where are we to go ? and what are we to 


do?" said poor, weak, simple Mrs. Blair, 
clasping her hands. 

" We must go back to London, mamma," 
said Lucy, pale and resolute, "and I must 
recommence my career as a Daily Governess." 

Mrs. Blair burst into tears. " Oh, that you 
had accepted Mr. Stockton !" she said. 

Lucy made no answer. Her thoughts w'ere 
far aAvay, across the blue Pacific, in the Land 
of Promise, wdth Henry Greville, her unac- 
knowledged, but yet affianced lover. 




The next morning Mincing came crying into 
Lucy's room before the latter was up. "Oh, 
Miss," she said, " I've never closed my eyes 
all night, a-thinking of my poor dear Missus 
in the clutches of that Leper (Mincing meant 
Leopard). Oh, Miss, from the little that suffoi*- 
ing Scraphine let fall (though she seldom 
spoke of him, it being against her princij)le, 
lie being, as she said, her wedded husband), 
hut fi'oiii what little she did say, I know that 
if ever there was a rampiant heatlien and a 


pompious persecutor on earth, it was that 
man. But that's not all, Miss ; Lady 
O'Blarney has seized poor Missus's desk and 
dressing case, and locked up all her things, 
and Major Quickly has put his seal on them, 
and Lady O'Blarney says Missus is deep in 
her debt, while I know^ it ain't true, and that 
you and your ma'r owe her for all the time 
you've been h^re." 

" Good Heavens," cried Lucy, pale with 
terror ; " does she pretend that we are not 
your mistress's guests ?" 

" Yes, that she do, ]\Iiss !" and Major 
Quickly backs her up. " I've always thought 
he had a share in this business, and I think 
that little Hop-o'-my-thumb of a lawyer 
that came last night has been putting them up 
to all manner — but you'll hear about it all soon 
enough — I know I shouldn't care if I could 
but hear that poor dear Mistress was alive and 
well. If her health don't give way, and he 
don't drive her mad, she'll outwit him yet ; 


she've done it afore, and she will again. If 
she could get away from the Brazils, w^here she 
hadn't a creature near but his slaves (with 
hearts as dark as their skins), she'll manage 
it now, in this free country and where there's 
the new Divorce Court, and Sir Cresswell 
Cresswell to see our sex righted." 

"And what do you mean to do in the 
meantime. Mincing ?" said Lucy. 

'' Well, Miss, Lady O'Blarney says as I'm 
such a hand at dress-making, getting up 
fine linen, hair-dressing, and all that goes to 
the makings of a lady's-maid, I'm welcome to 
stay here as her maid, at good wages, and 
everything found, till I see whether Mistress 
will come back ; and as Hastings agrees with 
my constitution, and I don't want to be out of 
place, I think I shall accept the offer. But 
la, Miss ! whatever is that scratching at your 
door ? Shall I see ?" 

A giggle, a titter, and a scamper followed 
Mincing's opemng tlic door. *' I sec you. 


Miss Baby Bland !" she cried, going to the 
top of the stairs, as that elderly hoyden 
scampered off, followed by the little O'Blar- 
neys. " Well, if ever I see the Hke spiteful 
think ! — I'm sure that old Methody May's at 
the bottom of this." 

" What is it, Mincing?" said Lucy. 

" La, Miss, don't bemean yourself to notice 

Lucy, who had thrown on her wrapper, ap- 
proached the door. On the white pannel was 
scratched in red chalk — 


Daily Governess. 

Half a Crown a week. 

No References given or required. 

Gentlemen Pupils preferred. 

Mincing, with a flannel and soap, soon 
washed off the off'ensive and vulgar inscription, 
and Lucy was ashamed to find, after it was 
effaced from the door, that it was engraved on 
her memory. 


As Mrs. Blair and Lucy did not appear at 
breakfast, a tray was sent up to them, but not 
as on some few former occasions, when they 
had breakfasted alone, with fresh tea in a 
separate tea-pot, buttered toast, eggs, tongue, 
and marmalade. Two cups of weak tepid 
tea, and some dry toast, was all their break- 
fast ; and soon after Lady O'Blarney begged 
to know when she could see Mrs. Blair, and 
requested an interview with her on pressing 
business in the back drawing-room. 

Lucy, fearing that her mother would go to 
this meeting quite unprepared, and be cruelly 
shocked by the demand which, from what 
Mincing had said, she feared Lady O'Blarney 
was going to be mean and wicked enough to 
make, repeated to her all she had heard, and 
Mrs. Blair, not having Lucy's strength of mind 
and buoyancy, grew faint and sick with alarm 
at the prospect before her. 

" What is to become of us, Lucy ?" she 
said ; '' how am I to prove to her or to any 



one, that we were here as Mrs. Green Brown's 
guests ? And if she has taken possession of 
our poor friend's desk, of course she has got 
the receipts into her own hands. I shall be 
thrown into prison, all I have in the world 
will not pay for three months' board at this 
expensive place, for you and me." 

'' I fear, mamma," said Lucy, " that Lady 
O'Blarney iss little better than a swindler. 
Her object is to take advantage of poor Mrs. 
Green Brown's abduction to extort all she can. 
I think you had better say that you will con- 
sult a solicitor, that you have witnesses to 
prove, not merely that we were on a visit to 
Mrs. Green Brown, but that she has weekly 
paid all owing for herself and us. Don't 
appear frightened, and let me come with 

" Oh, Lucy," cried Mrs. Blair, " I hope 
I shall not see that vile little man again !" 

•' No, dear mamma," said Lucy ; " I have 
just seen him (from my window) set out in a 


fly, with Mrs. Bland and Mrs. May, so you 
had better get the interview over before his 

In the back drawing-room Lady O'Blarney 
and Major Quickly were sitting, with sundry 
account books before them, and with pen, ink, 
and paper ready. 

" This is a very mysterious affair connected 
with the soi'disant Mrs. Green Brown," said 
Lady O'Blarney, turning very red, and speak- 
ing with a strong brogue ; but neither bowing, 
shaking hands, nor shewing any of her wonted 
good-humoured empressement. " And it is 
high time, Mrs. Blair, that we should come to 
a settlement 1 You've been three months and 
a week to-morrow, boarding here — ^you and 
Miss Blair." 

" As guests of Mrs. Green Brown !" 

" Guests !" said Major Quickly, with a 
little derisive laugh. " My dear madam, who 
ever heard of two ladies staying for three 

N 2 


months and a week on a visit to another ladv, 
at such a place as Bonvivant House ?" 

'' And yet we came here, and have stayed 
here in that capacity," faltered Mrs. Blair. 

" Now, really," said Major Quickly, " Mrs. 
Green Brown is not here to take her own part, 
or to pay her own bills." 

" Sir," said Lucy, seeing her mother about 
to cry, " the interference of a gentleman 
who has no concern in this affair makes it 
much more unpleasant to my mother; it is 
surely with Lady O' Blarney she has to do !" 

" Lady O'Blarney," said the Major, getting 
very red, in a bullying manner, " is a widow — 
a young widow — an unprotected, inexperienced 
lady, easily taken in ; and while this warm 
fresh blood flows in the veins of Phelim Quickly, 
he'll stand by her and see her righted !" 

" But I am sure, ^lajor," said Lady O'Blar- 
ney, " these ladies have no wish to -wrong 
mc ; there's some mistake here, that's all." 

" I do not see what mistake there can be," 


said Lucy, firmly, but gently. " Mrs. Green 
Brown invited us here as her guests, and she 
told me herself, that she had weekly squared 
accounts (her own expression) with you, Lady 
O 'Blarney, and that your receipts were in her 

" That can soon be ascertained," said Major 
Quickly. " Directly I heard of Mrs. Green 
Brown's abduction, or elopement, or whatever 
it was, I put my seal on her writing-desk, her 
dressing-case, and all her boxes and drawers ; 
and I had the desk and dressing-case locked 
up in that chiffonier. The key, if yon please, 
my lady." 

Lady O'Blarney handed him the key. 

He went to the chiffonier and took out 
the handsome rose-w^ood desk. It was not, 
locked (Mrs. Green Brown was very careless), 
bnt his seal was on it. He broke tlic seal, 
the desk was searched, no receipts were forth- 

Mrs. Blair turned very pale, and felt very 


sick ; she was rather a weak timid woman, 
and she had been cruelly and grossly deceived, 
even at the outset of her career. 

None but strong minds are capable of con- 
fidence in others or in themselves. It glanced 
across her bewildered thoughts, as just possible, 
that Mrs. Green Brown, careless and good-na- 
tured, might have let the account run on, and 
even a suspicion darkened her poor, sinking 
heart, that she might be an impostor after all ; 
have gone off of her own accord, and left Mrs. 
Blair to meet the accumulated expenses of 
three months and a week, at this extravagant 

Not so Lucy — Lucy knew her poor friend 
w ell — she had the strong confidence of a strong 
mind ; she had witnessed the cruel capture, 
the forcible abduction. She stroncjlv sus- 
pected Lady O'Blarney and Major Quickly 
were swindlers and accomplices, but she saAv 
at a glance the peril of the position of her 
mother and herself, and aware that nothing 


but a bold front could avail with such trick- 
sters, she said : 

" Whatever my dear, kind friend, Mrs. 
Green BroAvn, owes you, Lady O'Blarney, for 
the last week of our stay here, you have 
ample security for, in the quantity of valu- 
ables she has left behind. With regard to my 
mother and myself, if you persist in exacting 
from us payment for board and lodgings in 
a house to which we came as Mrs. Green 
Brown's visitors, I can only say we could not 
pay such a demand if we would, and I must 
add, we would not if we could. I can take 
my oath in a witness-box, that Mrs. Green 
Brown told me she had weekly squared ac- 
counts, as she called it, with you. Lady 
O'Blarney ; and I can bring her medical man 
forward as a witness, too, that she invited us to 
come here as her guests. I dare say Mrs. 
Green Brown is still in England, and per- 
haps an advertisement in the Times might 
induce her husband to allow lier to come 


forward to claim her valuable property, and 
substantiate our assertions. At any rate, if 
you enforce your demand upon my mother, 
I shall prevail upon her to enquire who is 
the best solicitor in Hastings, and to put 
this extraordinary affair into his hands. I 
am certain there is not a judge in the land 
who, after hearing my witness, would not 
decide in our favour." 

Lady O'Blarney and Major Quickly were 
taken quite aback by the strong good sense, 
the decision, the courage, and the presence of 
mind, of one whom they had only looked upon 
as a young and thoughtless beauty. 

They exchanged glances of surprise and 
dismay, and Lady O'Blarney said — 

" You are very ready to go to law, my dear 
Miss Blair, and you have put yourself in a 
pet, and quite misunderstood my object in 
requesting this interview. Ml I wished to 
say was, that although you have been three 
months and a week at my house without our 


coming to a settlement, and although Mrs. 
Grewi Brown, who came here as a stranger 
to me, but is such an intimate friend of yours, 
has disappeared in so mysterious a manner, 
yet I feel such confidence in your respecta- 
bility, that you are welcome to remain at a 
reduced rate now the season is over, until 
you can ascertain the fate of your friend. 
With regard to any understanding between 
you as to your being her visitor (of which 
I was not aware), if, as ladies, you assure 
me that was the case, I am wihing to with- 
draAv my demand upon you ; and if, after 
a time, Mrs. Green Brown fails to return to 
claim her property and pay me in full, I shall 
dispose of some of the valuables she has left 
behind her to pay myself the amount that, 
according to your statement, she owes me on 
your account as well as her own, but I should 
be veiy sorry to go to law about such a trifle." 
" It would be very much beneath the dig- 
nity of Lady O'Blarney to do so," said Major 


Quickly, '' and I should not advise it by any 

"Nor should I," said Lucy; "but had 
Lady O 'Blarney attempted to enforce such a 
claim, my mother must have put it into a 
solicitor's hands. With regard to Mrs. Green 
Brown, I know her to be all that is good and 
honourable, and as I doubt not she will con- 
trive to retui'n and claim her property, I 
advise you not to be in too great a hurry to 
dispose of it, for however short your memory 
may be. Lady 'Blarney, I am sure she will 
be able to recall to your recollection the 
weekly payments she has made, and as I think 
she paid you in cheques on her own banker, 
I fancy she will be able to prove her case." 

" Poor dear lady !" said Major Quickly, " I 
wish there were any chance of her ever re- 
gaining her freedom for that or any other 
pmrpose ; but if it is true what is now bruited 
abroad, that Mrs. Green Brown, as she calls 
herself, is the wife of the rich Brazilian mer- 


chant, Crawley Blackadder who flogged a man 
to death some years ago with his own hand, we 
shall never see or hear anything of her again." 

" She escaped from him before, and may 
again," said Lucy ; " and in any case, I hope 
that, for the sake of the trifle she owes, you 
will not, after her long abode here, dispose of 
any property she values." 

Lucy wished she could have added that her 
mother would pay for the one week yet due, 
but three pounds was all Mrs. Blair had in the 
world, and with this they had to get to town 
and support themselves until Lucy could again 
obtain employment as a Daily Governess. 

" At any rate," said Lady O'Blarney, " we 
may hope to see you at dinner to-day ; the 
table lacks its brightest ornaments Avhen Mrs. 
and Miss Blair are absent." 

"No, I thank you. Lady O'Blarney," said 
Lucy, "we are too anxious about our j)oor 
friend to be fit for society ; we must beg you 
to excuse us." 


" And," said ^Irs. Blair, " as we shall re- 
turn to town to-morrow, we shall be busy 
with our packing/' 

" In that case," said Lady O'Blarney, " I 
Avill order a nice little dinner to be sent to 
you in your own room, and I hope by tea- 
time you may feel disposed to join us." 

Thus ended, with fnany cordial smiles, and 
bows, and hand-shakings on the part of Lady 
O'Blarney and Major Quickly, an attempt at 
extortion and cheating, which, but for Lucy's 
courage, sense, and presence of mind, might 
have placed them in a very awkward and peri- 
lous position. As Lucy and her mother left 
the back drawing-room, she heard a loud 
mocking laugh from the front room, of which 
the door was ajar, and Miss Bland was saying 
in a loud tone, — 

" A Daily Governess, after all ! and dressed 
up like that ! and giving herself all those 
airs with her betters !" 

" I wish she'd show her saucv face," said 


her sister, '' I'd ask her her terms for his- 
tory, geography, and the use of the globes — 
ha! ha! ha!" 

Lucy's cheeks were flushed, and her spirit 
rose at these insults, but she felt it was be- 
neath her to take any notice of them. On 
the upper landing little Norah 'Blarney came 
up to her and said — 

" Does a daily governess give a single knock 
or a ring, Miss Blair?" 

" A Daily Governess is a lady, my dear," 
said Lucy, kindly, " and she gives a double 

"Ha! ha! ha! a fine ladv !" said the 
child ; '' why, she has wages, and walks out 
by herself, and is only an upper servant." 

" You will know better some day," said 
Lucy, just as a giggle from the little room in 
which Baby Bland slept, of which the door 
was haK open, proclaimed who had prompted 
these insults. Lucy had always been very 
kind to this child, and her ingratitude wounded 


lier. She turned her head away to hide her 

The child was not naturally bad ; she was 
perceptive and affectionate. 

"Have I vexed you?" she said, holding 
out her arms to Lucy ; " I didn't say that out 
of my own head ; Mrs. May and Baby Bland 
told me to say it ; and they're both of them 
spiteful things; nmning you down, and saying 
you're only a Daily Governess ; but no matter, 
all the gentlemen love you, and hate them, 
and you're prettier than my new wax doll, 
and they're ugly old things ! If you are a 
Daily Governess, I wish you would teach me. 
Kiss me, and make friends." 

Lucy kissed the lovely little blue-eyed tor- 
mentor, and feeling that her fidl heart must 
burst out in sobs and tears, she gave her a 
little tortoise-shell pin-box as a keep sake, 
and leading her to the door, told her to run 
away, and then, locking herself in, she burst 
into torrents of long-repressed tears. 




It was one of those dark hours in our lives 
familiar to all of us, and darkest, perhaps, in 
early youth from the contrast of their comfort- 
less despair, to that sunshine of Hope, which 


will beam upon the youthful heart, and make 
it hght and glad whatever the outward pros- 
pect may be. 

At this moment poor Lucy saw everytliing, 
past, present, and future, en noir, just as on 
the day of her arrival at Hastings she had 
seen everything (much the same in reality) 
couleur dc rose. Now the dark ruins of pnst 


hopes, and the distant hiUtops and surround- 
ing scenes which then had all appeared bathed 
in sunshine, were black with gathering storms 
and settled gloom. 

It seemed strange to her, too, that Henry 
Greville should not have contrived some means 
of letting her know of his arrival. 

He must have reached Sydney by this time ; 
and if not — ;oh ! that was too dreadful a sub- 
ject to contemplate. Then poor, kind, Mrs. 
Green Brown, where was she now ? AVhat 
might she not be suffering from that inhuman 
monster, whose hideous image, as it rose on 
Lucy's mind, made her shudder and bury her 
face in her hands, as if she could thus shut it 
out from her mental view. Then the prospect 
that awaited herself — not merely the di'udgery, 
the toil, but the doubt of being able to obtain 
an opportunity of toiling and drudging. 

How dark, how dingy, how close, how 
> mean and sordid would a poor London lodg- 
ing seem after this long holiday ! That 


bright, open sea; those grand rocks, those 
enchanting suburbs ! The freedom, the 
leisure, the liberty, the life, the delightful 
bathing, the long rides, the attention, the ad- 
miration, the deference ! All gone as by a 
touch of some bad fairy's wand. 

Cinderella, when at the Prince's ball the 
clock struck tAvelve, and her jewelled garb 
dropped into the cinder-wench's rags, and the 
coach became a gourd, and the horses rats, and 
the coachman and footman mice,and she shrank 
away to hide her shame and her disgrace, 
must have felt something like poor liUcy Blair, 
as she thought of the jeers and insults Avhicli 
Slimy Coil (her evil genius) had brought upon 
her, from envious, mean, and sordid natures, 
by announcing that she, the admired, elegantly- 
dressed belle of Hastings, was only a daily 
governess, whom he had often met at her 
employer's, or seen in all weathers trudging 
along the streets of London, laden with books 
and a cotton umbrella ! 

VOL. II. o 


" How I wish I had never come here !" 
thought Lucy, her cheeks burning, and her 
spirit bruised. *' In a quiet lodging such as 
I had hoped for, I should have escaped all 
this. And yet, what does it matter ? Am 
I ashamed of being able to support myself 
and my mother by the exertion of talents 
that the noblest and wealthiest covet, and that 
prove that I have not idled away the golden 
hours of youth ? No ; but I am ashamed of a 
weakness so vain and so contemptible. My 
ingratitude for the power and opportunity of 
earning wherewith to support my mother and 
myself would, if persisted in, merit that the 
powers I have dared to be ashamed of should 
be withdi'awn. It was not for my own sake, 
but for Mrs. Green Brown's that I wished 
my avocations unknown. I have sought no 
intimacy with those mean, envious, and in- 
solent women who are so affronting to me ; 
and poor daily governess as I am, there is not 
one of the men I have met here, and who now 


would probably slight as much as they ha\ e 
courted me, whom I would not refuse if he 
were a millionaire !" 

At this moment Mrs. Blair came in, flushed, 
agitated, and in tears. 

*' My dear Lucy," she said, " if we could 
get our things packed up, I should be so glad 
to get away this evening." 

" Why so, dearest mother ?" said Lucy. 
'* Is that odious Slimy Coil come back?" 

"No, my dear, but the people here have 
somehow found out that you are a daily go- 

" I know they have, mamma," said Lucy, 
smiling ; " but what does that matter ?" 

" I am surprised to see you take it so 
calmly, my dear," said Mrs. Blair. 

" Why so, mamma ? there is nothing dis- 
honest or disgraceful in being a daily go- 
verness, is there ?" 

" No. But it is the fashion to look down 
on all ladies in that dependent position ; and 

o 2 


when I went into the drawing-room just now 
to collect our books and work-boxes, instead 
of shaking hands, as usual, Mrs. May, and 
the Elands, and all but Mrs. Dolores, drew 
themselves up ; and as I begged to know 
of Mrs. Bland what offence I had given her, 
she said, ' We all feel offended, Mrs. Blair, 
independent gentlewomen as we all are, at 
having had professional people placed on an 
equality with ourselves, and having, in our 
ignorance as to who and what they were, 
sanctioned their intimacy with our daugh- 

" ' I don't understand you at all,' I said. 

" ' Don't you ?' groaned Mrs. May. ' Don't 
you think that we have all reason to complain 
that a bold, flauntering creature, a runaway 
wife (as it turns out), comes here under the 
disguise of a disreputable alias, and with 
bold, painted face, and brazen impudence, 
and unseemly apparel, and squandering ways, 
tries to corrupt our good manners by her evil 


communications ; and, not content with her 
own wickedness, daughter of Behal that she 
is ! dresses up and introduces a professional 
young person, and brings her here to flourish 
away at the piano, and show ofi* accomphsb- 
ments, that it's no wonder she possesses, 
since she gets her bread by them. It's 
enough to bring a judgment down upon us 
all ! And to think of the narrow escape that 
poor deluded old man, Mr. Stockton, had !' 

" ' What do you mean, ma'am, by an es- 
cape ?' I said ; ' are you not aware that Mr. 
Stockton proposed to my daughter ?' 

'' ' Yes, but he didn't know that she was a 
daily governess. He's an old fool, I own ; 
but he has some pride and self-respect left, 
and if he'd known what Miss Blair was, he'd 
never have made that idiotic offer which you 
at first fancied was meant for yourself. Ha, 
ha, ha !' 

" ' For shame, ladies !' cried Mrs. Dolores, 
overhearing the conversation, and coming in 


from the balcony. ' You call yourselves gen- 
tlewomen, and yet you insult a mother's 
feelings, through her beautiful and exemplary 

" * Who turns out, with all her airs, to be 
nothing but a daily governess !' screeched 
Miss Bland. 

" * And what of that ?' said Mrs. Dolores ; 
'a very little turn of Fortune's wheel — the 
breaking of a bank, the absconding of an 
agent, the failure of a house of business — 
might make all of us only too thankful if we 
were able to earn our livelihood as daily go- 
vernesses. But not having Miss Blair's great 
acquirements and elegant accomphshments, 
we should all have to descend a good deal 
lower. You young ladies would be house, 
nurse, or kitchen maids ; and Mrs. May, Mrs. 
Bland, Lady O' Blarney, and I, should come 
down to the wash-tub. Pray don't let them 
wound your kind mother-heart, Mrs. Blair ; 
attribute it all to envy of beauty and merit.' 


" ' If,' said Mrs. Bland, ' you had told us, 
Mrs. Blair, that your daughter was a daily 
governess, and could have given me any good 
references, I should have been very glad to 
have engaged her to give Baby some lessons, 
for the child is running wild ; and the little 
0' Blarneys want a teacher sadly, and we 
might have formed a nice little class. So 
.you see, you've been more nice than wise, 
Mrs. Blair, and out of pocket by your pride.' 

" ' And do you think, Mrs. May,' said Mrs. 
Dolores, ' that your pride, spiritual pride, the 
worst kind of pride, the pride that apes hu- 
mility, will not have a greater fall ? What are 
you — what are we, any of us, that we should 
despise an amiable young lady of gentle birth, 
because she is obliged to exert her talents to 
support her mother and herself?' 

" ' What I complain of is the deception 
practised in passing herself oif as a lady of 
fashion,' said Mrs. Bland ; ' but now it has 
all come out, surely the sooner she returns to 


her duties the better ; she cannot feel com- 
fortable here now.' 

" '1 quite agree with you there,' said I ; 
' for though poor, and obliged to exert her 
great talents for our support, my daughter is 
a lady, and therefore such affi^onts as you 
have heaped on me shall never, if I can help 
it, be offered to her. She is not fit company 
for you, because the highly-educated and re- 
fined cannot associate with purse-proud, 
vulgar parvenues 1' So saying," added Mrs. 
Blair, *' I left them, just as the younger Misses 
Bland came in, their faces sharpened with 
spite, to add their jeers and titters to those of 
their mother and Mrs. May." 

" And what is become of that odious 
Slimy Coil, mamma ?" asked Lucy. 

" I fear he is at St. Leonards to-day, with 
— (don't be startled, my darling !) — the Ha- 
milton Trehernes." 

Lucy grew very pale. That name was as- 
sociated with so much intolerable pain and 


'' Mamma," she said, " let us take ad- 
vantage of his absence to remove without 
seeing him again. We have very little lug- 
gage. I will pack up all our things at once ; 
and if, while I am doing so, you will step out 
and order a fly to take us to the station, we 
will return to town this evening. There is a 
train starts in an hour from this time ; and 
that being the dinner-hour here, we shall 
perhaps escape unnoticed." 

" Very well, my love," said Mrs. Blair. 
" But ring for Sally to help you to cord that 

" No, dear mamma, I can do it very well. 
Even the servants, influenced, of course, 
by the malice and vulgarity of the Blands 
and Mrs. May, are become pert and dis- 
obedient. This morning Sally brought me 
no hot water, and when I rang for some, 
she said there was none, as the youiuj 
ladies had had a bath. Susan generally comes 
all smiles to fasten my dress, but to-day she 


did not appear, and on my ringing for her, 
Primm, the page, came to my door and said 
Susan could not come, as the young ladies 
wanted her. He had not cleaned my boots 
or yours, so I asked him to do so directly. 
' I've no time,' he said, ' and I've my orders ; 
besides, I've got to take a note to St. Leo- 
nard's for Mr. Slimy Coil, and I can't be in 
twenty places at once, so your boots and your 
mar's must wait.' These are trials," added 
Lucy, " but when we consider whence they 
come, we can afford to despise them. But 
an atmosphere of ill-will and insult is not a 
healthy atmosphere, and for that and many 
other reasons I think the sooner we depart 
the better. We will leave a message with 
Mincing, who will deliver it to Lady 'Blarney. 
I shall not breathe freely till I am out of this 

Mincing, who was a good creature, not 
only undertook to deliver the message, but 
busied herself most efficiently with the pack- 


ing, which was a more arduous task than 
Lucy had imagined. 

Mincing wept at parting with those so dear 
to her kind mistress, and quietly helped the 
flyman to carry do^vn the luggage. 

So noiselessly was everything managed, 
that Mrs. and Miss Blair left Bonvivant House 
without one of its inmates, except Mincing, 
knowing of their departure. All were at 
dinner when Lucy and her mother glided 
down stairs and stepped into the fly. 

As they leaned back, their faces covered 
with double gossamer veils, they passed a 
wheel chair, containing a stout invalid 'gen- 
tleman ; the chair was drawn by a footman 
in a livery well known to Lucy, and a valet, 
whose face she remembered, walked by its 
side. A httle cry of horror escaped her, and 
her cheek grew pale, and her heart stood still ; 
the inmate of that Bath chair was associated 
with one of the most terrible moments of her 
life, and changed as he was, she knew him at 
a glance. 


Yes, though no cosmetics gave brilliancy 
to his complexion, no false eyebrows marked 
his forehead, and his cheeks were flabby, his 
skin lemon-colour, and his expression one of 
sullen and almost vacant gloom, and though, 
instead of his Hyperion wig and glossy hat, a 
shepherd's plaid cap, with a large peak, was 
pulled over his bald head, still, in his odious 
face there was something left that Lucy re- 
membered with a shudder, and which, coupled 
with the gay livery of one man and the crafty 
face of the other, convinced her that she 
gazed on Sir Jasper Malvoisin. Yes, it 
was the wreck of that once showy profligate. 
But a paralytic stroke had succeeded the 
brain fever in which we left him ; and there 
was little probability that Sir Jasper would 
ever be anything again but a poor, helpless, 
childish, friendless wreck, at the mercy of 
servants who used him very cruelly, and 
against whom, as he had no relatives, and had 
never made a friend, he had no appeal. As 


Lucy looked at his lack-lustre eyes and mouth 
drawn aside, and saw him shaking his fist in 
a fit of impatient rage at the refusal of the 
footman to stop and turn him out of the wind, 
and at the intentional jolts he gave him, Lucy 
felt she was, indeed, avenged. And in her 
kind and forgiving heart she wished that 
she could have done something to alleviate 
his misery and secure him more humane 

Nor was this the only old acquaintance the 
sight of whom made Lucy Blair start and 
tremble on her way to the station. 

A gay party of equestrians dashed past the 
fly in which her mother and herself were 

" What a beautiful girl !" cried Mrs. Blair, 
'' and not very unlike you, my Lucy !" 

It was Augusta Hamilton Treherne, riding 
with a gay party of ladies and gentlemen ; 
and on a little pony, perched like a monkey 
on the back of a dog, and grinning up in ad- 


miration of the handsome Augusta, was Slimy 
Coil. Luckily they were returning to St. 
Leonard's to dinner, and continued gaily on 
while the fly meekly took its quiet way to the 

" We cannot afford to go first class, my 
love," said Mrs. Blair. 

" Nor second either, mamma," said Lucy ; 
"luckily, there is a thu'd class to this train." 

" Oh, my child, I cannot bear " 

" Mamma," whispered Lucy, " we must 
husband the few shillings we have. It is 
very fine ; we have warm cloaks, and we are 

She went to the little window where the 
third-class tickets were issued. It was no- 
thing to her that instead of bows and smiles 
they were rather rudely thrown down. 

"After all, what is the value of civility 
that every one can purchase ?" she said, as 
she took them up. " Let us take our seats, 


But a train had to come in before this 
one went out, and Lucy's trials were not 
quite over. 

By that train Strutt and Stair were coming 
d(jwn, still full of their joint imitative love of 
Lucy, as the acknowledged belle of Hastings 
and " cynosure of neighbouring eyes." 

They had got a week's holiday on the plea 
of illness, and were preparing to spend it at 
Bonvivant House. . . . 

'' Why, there she is with old Blair, by all 
tliat's lucky !" said Strutt, colouring to the 
loots of his short flaxen hair. 

" What a confounded bore !" replied Stair. 
'' They're evidently going off*." . . . 

Mrs. Blair was superintending the ticket- 
ing of her luggage, and not being quite as 
strong-minded as Lucy, was very red and hot, 
and very much annoyed at the insolent non- 
chalance that succeeded the porter's respectful 
empressement when she told him to put her 
carpet-bags and small parcels in a Hard 
class carriage. 


" Oh, my dear Lucy !" she cried, '' don't 
appear to see them, but there are Strutt and 
Stair !" 

It was in vain ! Strutt and Stair came to 
their side at once. 

The railway porter, at the announcement 
that the carpet-bags, &c. &c. were to be put 
into a third-class carriage, had slunk off to 
attend to some first-class travellers, not that 
they get anything more, in a general way, 
from first than third, but they had all an 
innate reverence for first-class, and contempt 
for third-class travellers. The bell rang, the 
whistle sounded. 

" Are you going by this train, Miss Blair?" 
drawled Stair, with his eye-glass in his eye. 

''Yes," said Lucy, seizing one carpet-bag, 
while her mother took the other. 

" Oh, do let us help you ! Confound these 
porters ! They're very inattentive, — they 
deserve to be reported." But Strutt had 
seized one carpet-bag and Stair the other, 


while Lucy and her mother carried the cloaks, 
&c. &c. 

" When do you return to Lady O'Blarney's, 
Miss Blair?" asked Strutt, as they hurried 

"This way, Mrs. Blair," cried Stair; 
" here's plenty of room!" stopping opposite a 
first class carriage, but Mrs. Blair pushed on, 
red, hot, ashamed, and impatient. 

Lucy was calm, composed, and not a little 
amused at the idea of two dandy clerks lug- 
ging a heavy carpet-bag each, and as Mrs. 
Blair went straight to a first-class carriage, 
Lucy, Strutt, and Stair were obliged to follow 

"Why, she's mad!" whispered Striitt to 

" Wherever is the old fool going ?" whis- 
pered Stair to Strutt ; " why, she's getting 
into a third-class carriage 1" 

" Miss Blair," cried Strutt, " tell Mrs. Blai: 
that's a third-class carriage." 

VOL. II. p 


" We are going third class," said Lucy, 
very quietly. 

The two amateur porters were struck dumh 
with amazement and disgust. 

'' Just put the carpet-bags in here," said 
Lucy, climbing up into the bare, comfortless 
third-class carriage. 

" I'm very much obliged to you," she said, 
taking the carpet bag from the astounded go- 
vernment clerks ; " I don't know what we 
should have done without you, the railway 
porters are so rude and inattentive to third- 
class travellers. None but gentlemen 

• Cast round the world (the formal world, I mean) an 

equal eye. 
And feel for all that live.' 

Always helping the unprotected female, 
whether she travels first, second, or third class. 
Good-bye, and a thousand thanks," she added, 
smiling and bowing so graciously, that in- 
stinctively the two government clerks raised 
their hats as the train glided away. 


" What a confounded sell," drawled Strutt ; 
" I can't make head or tail of it ; I thought 
the Blairs had plenty of money. What's 
become of Green Brown ? she was as rich as 
a Jew, I'm sure — ^there must have been a 
smash of some kind — I hope it'll never get 
round at Somerset House that we were seeii 
handing carpet-bags into a third-class car- 
riage. " 

*' And what a cool face the girl put upon 
it, no explanation, no apology — perhaps it's 
only that old Blair's a screw. If so, the less 
she spends the more the girl '11 have," said 
Stair. " Well, we'd better not say a word about 
it at Blarney's. Old Bland's nephew (Joe 
Bland) in the Inland Revenue Office will be 
sure to hear of it, if we don't keep onr own 
counsel — and he'll soon have one of his cari- 
catures out, representing us lugging aloiii: 
those confounded carpet-bags, and hnmling 
them into the third-class carriage ; let's keep 
oui' own counsel. But what can it all mean ?" 

p 2 


" What a bore we're come here ; now the 
Bliiirs are gone, Bonvivant House will be the 
slowest place in the world. However, we must 
go there to hear all about it, so push on." 

" I say, old fellow, can you walk so far ?" 

" No, not I, my patent boots hurt me con- 

"Ditto, ditto. Now the Blairs are off, how 
I regret having these three-mile heels put on 
by Box. Let's call a fly. In for a penny, in 
for a pound ! But what a sell it is alto- 

" Yes, we're done uncommonly brown, and 
dinner '11 be over at 'Blarney's." 

" I declare I could put a pistol to my 
head," said Strutt ; " a whole week's salary 
gone for nothing." 

"So could I," added Stair ; "it's too 

\e{ what could they have expected — they 
coukln't both have married Lucy, even at the 
best ; but one often sees two idle brother 
clerks, on terms of perfect amity, gonig in pairs 


to court the same lady, if she is a la mode, and 
I'einarkable for wealth or beauty — it never 
seems to strike them that one hi any case must 
be disappointed — but as in general the lady 
will not have anything to say to either, it 
doesn't much matter. 




It was late in the autumn now, and many 
of the trees were bare. 

The evening set in very cold and gusty, 
and as Lucy and her mother drew their cloaks 
around them, and glanced at the distant land- 
scape, the delicate heads of the young trees 
1)0 wed, and their tresses waved beneath the 
blast ; the sturdy oaks giving battle the while, 
l>ut even though victorious losing in the conflict 
much of their wealth of foliage and acorns 
(l)ut wliat victory was ever without its losses ?). 


The contrast of what this scene had been when 
they passed throngh it in hot, ripe August, 
and what it was then, forced itself on the 
minds of mother and daughter. 

At first they had this bare, comfortless third 
class carriage to themselves, that was one 
solace ! 

And Lucy, throwing her arm around lier 
mother, said, for she had seen a tear in that 
mother's large, quiet eye : 

" Don't cry, dear mother ! We are to- 
gether ; think how grateful we ought to be, that 
come what will, we are still together ! And then 
compare the pale, feeble, sickly girl I was when 
we passed yon village last, and the strong 
healthy, almost robust daughter you have now 
got to lean on ; then too, you, mother, dear, 
are strong and well, compared to what you 
were three months ago ! Let us look on the 
bright side of everything, mamma, and there 
is a very bright side to our present lot !" 

The mother forced a smile. 


'' We must take a cab," she said, " and go 
to Arimdel Street." 

" Yes, it will not be very far from Waterloo 
Bridge, only a shilling fare." 

'' I hope we shall not find our poor old se- 
cond floor let," said Mrs. Blair. 

Lucy had not thought of that possibility. 

" Oh, I hope not, what should we do ?" 

" We must go to Mr. Popkins, and consult 
him in that case. How unfortunate it is, be- 
ginning to pour. How wretched London will 
look," said Mrs. Blair, with a sigh and a 

" Betty will soon light us a fire, and get 
us some tea, and Mrs. Bragge will be so glad 
to see us," said Lucy. 

" And what shall we do for money, my 
love ?" 

" To-morrow we will have the ' Times,' and 
see if there is anything available advertised 
in it ; if not, we must venture a few shillings 
in an advertisement ourselves." 


, '' Oh, I SO dread your having anything to 
do with advertisements, Lucy, since that affair 
at ' The Willows/ " 

''But that was a peculiar case, mamma. 
Such a wretch as Sir Jasper Malvoisin does 
not cross one's path more than once in one's 
life ; and he, poor miserable wreck, will never 
trouble me or any other poor girl again." 

Conversing thus, and congratulating them- 
selves that there was no other passenger to 
prevent their talking freely, they came to the 
Lewes station. Here some travellers got 
out of other carriages and some got in, but 
luckily not into the carriage where Lucy and 
her mother were anxiously watching, and 
eagerly hoping to remain unmolested. 

" It would be so dreadful," said Mrs. Blair, 
" to have any low, vulgar men in here ; and 
indeed, that is the great danger and annoy- 
ance in any but the first class. As to the 
mere furniture and decorations, I should not 
care at all about that if the company were as 


good. Put clown your veil, Lucy, that gigan- 
tic old fellow in his mackintosh hood and 
cloak, and his green spectacles, was just going 
to pass on, but seeing you, he has changed his 
mind, and is coming in here, I fear." 

" Oh, I hope not, mamma !" said Lucy, "he 
has just had a dispute with one of the officials. 
I am sure he is a very cross, rude old fellow ; 
quite a spectacled bear." 

At this moment the person in question, six 
feet three in height, and very raw-boned and 
thin, stumbled in, saying to a porter who 
carried his portmanteau: — 

" Don't think to slight me because I choose 
to travel third class. I've done so ever since 
the managers of this railway dared to impose 
on the public by raising their prices, and till 
they lower them I'll travel third class ! Put 
the portmanteau here under the seat. D'ye 
hear ! mind what you're about, or I'll report 
you 1" 

The man thus exhorted was very obsequious 
and attentive. The traveller then took out an 


air cushion, inflated it, placed his carpet-bag 
under his feet, covered his knees with a 
woollen rug, and looking at Mrs. Blair, said : — 

" There, ma'am, you should take a leaf out of 
my book. I'm now as comfortable as I ever was 
in the first class, and I do this because it's an 
imposition to charge what they do. If every 
one would do as I do, and travel third class, 
we should soon have a reform. The whole 
system of railway travelling wants reform. 
Hotel charges want reform. Why, last night 
I burnt a night light ; I can get a box con- 
taining twelve for sixpence, and for this one 
Hght I found they had put down sixpence in 
my bill. I hope you are a reformer, ma'am." 

'' I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Blair, 
*' as to the necessity for reform with regard to 
hotel charges." 

" I shouldn't care," growled the stranger, 
" if they made one comfortable — but no such 
thing. Look at ihe beds. A human being, 
after being perpendicular all day, wants to be 


horizontal all night ; but no, all the beds are 
made to slope down to the feet, and every 
jade of a chambermaid doubles and rolls the 
sheet, blanket, and counterpane round on the 
chest, so that no one who lies in the bed, as 
she has made it, can escape nightmare. Then, 
if you are an ablutionist, don't you think re- 
form is wanted when a pint of tepid water 
is all you can get, instead of some gallons ? 
Then did you ever order coffee for breakfast, 
even at a first-rate English hotel ? — why, it's 
like the washing out of a coffee-pot. In the 
poorest hovel in Prance the coffee is better 
than at the best hotel in England. Doesn't 
that require reform ? And then I don't speak 
for myself. A man can always go into the 
coffee-room, but a lady — if you don't choose to 
pay a guinea or thirty shiUings for some dull, 
cold sitting-room, you must sit in your bed- 
room and be neglected and snubbed." 

" Some reform in that respect would be very 
desirable," said Mfs. Blair. 

" I should think it would," growled the 


stranger, and he took out a book and began 
with a pencil to mark one passage after an- 
other ; sometimes digging into the paper as if 
in a violent rage. Looking up suddenly, he 
caught Lucy's eye fixed upon him, while a 
smile, which she could not repress, was on her 
lip. " You're amused to see me making my 
' pencillings by the way,' young lady.'' 

Lucy said, "Are you marking the beau- 
ties ?" 

" Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed the stranger. 
'' That's all you know about it ! Beauties, 
indeed ! No, I'm marking the fatuity, the 
folly, the paradoxes, the plagiarisms, and the 
platitudes — beauties indeed !" and he returned 
to his penciUings. 

After a time he put the book down, and 
said, " What trash women do write, to be sure! 
I wonder they find publishers to run the risk 
of bringing such rubbish before the public.'' 

" Nay," said Lucy, " it would be a wonder 
if they did not, when the greatest hits in 
Uterature have been made by women." 


" What hits do you alhide to ?" growled the 

" ' Uncle Tom's Cabin/ * Jane Eyre/ Mohn 
Halifax, Gentleman/ ' Adam Bede ' " 

" Stop, in mercy stop !" said the gentle- 
man. " All those are writers of one book 
each !" 

" How do you mean ?" said Lucy. " All 
have produced many works." 

" But only one worth reading," retorted the 
stranger. '' What other work worth reading 
has the author of 'Uncle Tom's Cabin ' written ? 
Miss Bronte ! Avhat did she produce worth a 
straw, except ' Jane Eyre ? ' Why, in the 
' Monday Review ' I've written an article on 
' Female Novelists,' which proves, beyond a 
doubt, that no woman ever lias produced, or 
ever could produce, more than one readable 

'' Are there not great male writers of one 
book only ?" said Lucy ; " I could name two, 
at least." 

" Yes ! you have me there ! ' Vanity Fair' 



and ' Never Too Late,' each first-rate, and all 
their followers what Yankees call ' first-rate 
bad !' But do you take the ' Monday Review ?'" 
" No ; I like to form my own opinion," 
said Lucy ; " for, after all, a reviewer is only 
a man or a woman whose opinion may not 
be worth more than my own, and who 
may be prompted by feelings of partiality or 
severity. I have sent for books because I 
have seen them extolled to the skies, and not 
been able to wade through them ; and I have 
chanced to look into others that I have seen 
cut to pieces by the critics, and been entranced 
both by the story and the style ; and I have 
been told by those who knoAv the dcssous de 
cartes in those matters, that a spite against not 
merely the author of a book, but against its 
[)ublisher, will cause it to be virulently abused 
in certain quarters, and that many of the most 
implacable critics of the novels of others arc 
those who have failed to get their own pub- 
lished, or have been unable to get tlu* public 
to read them." 


The reviewer did not look much pleased at 
this last remark, perhaps it went home, and 
turning away, he took out some more books 
and began, by the now fast fading Hght, to 
stab the paper with his venomous pencil, until 
it became too dark for what Lucy could not 
but consider a cruel sport. 

He then returned to Lucy and his attack 
on female writers. Lucy defended them witli 
spirit, and while thus engaged, they reached 
the Waterloo station. 

The reviewer, w^ho had told Lucy that his 
name was Grinlay Snarl, handed out her 
mother and herself. Mrs. Blair during the 
literary discussion (not being much of a 
reader) had fallen into a sound sleep. 

Mr. Grinlay Snarl was very attentive, and 
Lucy could not prevent his encumbering her 
with help, while she ^vent into the crowd to 
claim her boxes ; she saw his eye dart eagerly 
to the direction in search of the name and 
address, and having read them, he called her 


Miss Blair ; he then hailed a cab, and told the 
driver where to go. 

They have been driven through the wet 
and dreary streets, and they are before the old 
door in Arundel Street. A grim and ghastly 
looking woman (a nurse) appeared. 

Lucy's heart misgave her as she asked, 
" Where is Mrs. Bragge ?" 

" Gone home !" groaned the woman. 

" Yes ; to her long home. She w^as took 
bad on Monday, wuss on Tuesday, wusser on 
Wednesday, and Thursday she went home. 
I've done my duty by her ; I've laid her out 
beautiful. Would ye like to see her, ladies ? 
She's a very pleasant corpse as I'd ever wish 
to see. She's in the second floor front, I'd 
like you to see her, ladies !" 

" No, I thank you," said Lucy, seeing her 
mother grow pale at the idea of the presoit 
tenant of their sitting-room. *' Did Mr. Pop • 
kins attend her?" 



" No, miss. Mr. Fubber — who've got liis 
business — Mr. Popkins changed with Mr. 
Eubber 'cos the old lady found this here 
street dull, and Mr. Eubber's business was in 
Cheapside, and so they changed. I wish 
you'd step up and see her. She's a very 
pleasant corpse." 

Lucy again declined. 

"Who was with her when she died?" asked 
Lucy. "I hope she was not alone." 

" Oh, no. Miss. A nephew of hern came 
over from forrin parts, two months back ; she 
didn't know she'd got any relations, and 
having a tidy bit of money to leave, she ad- 
vertised for any kith or kin of the name of 
Tutt, her maiden name, or Bragge. So this 
brought Mr. Tutt, who proved to her that he 
was her dead brother's son — and she was 
(piite took up with him, and made a will in 
his favour — and three days after she died 
(juite sudden. But that's him a-ringing tlie 
house down — so, good evening, ladies." 


" AVhere am I to drive to now, miss ?" said 
the cabman. 

It was too late, too dark, and too wet for 
lodging-hmiting that night. 

" I suppose we must go to some hotel for 
one night," said Mrs. Blair. " Cabman, do 
you know of a reasonable respectable hotel 
any where near ?" 

" None nearer nor Charing Cross," Sciid 
the man. 

" AVell, drive there then," said Mrs. Blair. 
" Oh, Lucy ! this is an unexpected misfortune ; 
one night at an expensive London hotel will 
leave us, I fear, almost without a shilling in 
the world ; but we have no choice, we cannot 
roam about the wet streets, or remain in this 
cab !" 

The cab stopped before a very large and 
handsome hotel in Trafalgar S([uare. The 
rain was pouring down in torrents, there was 
no choice, and with hearts full of misgivings 
and even dread of the certain expense, as they 


entered the handsome vestibule, Mrs. Blair and 
Lucy, after vainly trying to resist the over- 
charge of Cabby, timidly requested to be 
shown to a bed-room. 

" Show the lady what 'partments she can 
have," said a sort of head- waiter, eyeing Lucy 
and her mother with a sarcastic glance. 

" We don't want a sitting-room," said Mrs. 
Blair, with a burning cheek. 

" We don't let a bed-room alone, marm," 
said the waiter, " it ain't our custom ; show the 
ladies into the Blue Rooms." 

Lucy and her mother exchanged looks of 
despair ; the rain still fell in torrents, night 
had closed in, there were all their boxes — they 
could not remove at that hour, and in such 
weather. Mrs. Blair made one more attempt. 
" We only want to pass one night here," she 
said ; " and as we shall go to bed at once, and 
leave early in the morning, it would be a great 
accommodation to us to have only a bed-room." 

" We couldn't do it, marm ; it's against our 


custom, we never let our bed-rooms alone. 
Show the ladies to the Blue Suite !" 

There was no help for it ; up they went, uj) 
the broad palatial staircase, brilliantly lighted 
and richly carpeted, gilding and statues filling 
our poor travellers with dismay. 

A supercilious-looking waiter in a white tie 
and white waistcoat led the way to the Blue 
Suite. Very grand, but very cold, dark, and 
gloomy w^as the sitting-room. 

"What will you take, marm?" said the 

" Only tea, as soon as it can be got ready." 
" What will you take to your tea, marm ? 
heggs and chicken ?" 

" No, only bread and butter. Wliere is the 
chambermaid ? I want to see the bed-room." 
The waiter went out and rang a bell, which 
brought down a very pretty, well-dressed young 
chambermaid, who shewed Lucy and her mo- 
ther into a large bed-room, with a huge four- 
post bedstead, richly carved and handsomely 


draped with blue damask. The room was 
carpeted with a very handsome blue Brussels, 
and it opened into two di'essing-rooms luxu- 
riously fitted up. 

After lighting the wax candles on the man- 
telpiece, the chambermaid went in search of 
hot water, and Mrs. Blair, sinking into an 
armchair by the bed side, burst into tears. 

" Dearest mamma," said Lucy ; " don't give 

Avav so 1 It is no fault of ours." 


''No," sobbed Mrs. Blair; "but how are 
we to pay the enormous charge all this will 
entail on us ? These odious, cold, showy rooms 
alone will be a guinea, or perhaps more ! We 
haven't got it ; Avhat can w^e do ?" 

" Don't cry, beloved mother, it breaks my 
heart to see you weep," said Lucy. " This 
gold chain and this bracelet that poor dear 
Mrs. Green Brown gave me, manmia, be- 
fore we go to-morrow, I will step out and 
sell them or pledge them — only don't fret, but 
let us be as comfortable as we can here to-night, 


since it is no fault of extravagance of oiu' own 
that brings iis here." 

" Don't sell them, my darling," said lier 
mother ; " you may be able to redeem them 
some day, if you only pledge them ; but I do 
not know how to advise you to proceed, or 
where to tell you to go. I never was in a 
pawnbroker's in my life, and little did I think 
w^hen I married a man who was (in the opinion 
of m^ friends and Ms) so far above me, that it 
would ever come to this, that a daughter of 
mine would have not only to go out teaching, 
but worse still, to go into a pawnbroker's." 

Mrs. Blair had not Lucy's strength of mind 
and sustaining good sense, there was oc- 
casionally a touch of Mrs. Nickleby in her 
character, but Lucy loved her mother too ten- 
derly, and pitied her too sincerely, to resent 
this — she spoke of better days, even while her 
young heart sank in her breast, and tears rose 
to her eyes. 

The chambermaid coming in at this moment 


with the hot water, put an end to all further 
conversation ; and when Lucy and her mother 
issued each from her splendid dressing-room, 
and cheval glass, and entered the sitting-room, 
they found a noble English fire blazing, the 
room well lighted, warm, and comfortable, 
the urn hissing on the table, the tea tempt- 
ingly set out, excellent bread, delicious butter, 
toast and n^uffins awaiting them ; and cheered 
by the sight of the fire and the repast, they sat 
down and thoroughly enjoyed the luxuries 
of a first-rate English hotel after their tedious 
journey, and in spite of their dark prospects 
and empty purses. 




Ere long the Avarmth of the lire and the 
comfort of the softly-cushioned sofa lulled 
Mrs. Blair (who was very weary and far from 
well) into a sound sleep ; and Lucy, whose 
anxieties for the morrow were once more busy 
at her heart, after the tea-things were re- 
moved, got out her writing-desk and dressing- 
case. The former, that she might draw out 
an advertisement for daily pupils (to be in- 
serted the next day in the Times), the 
latter that she might look out lu r gold chain, 


bracelet, and a few other valuables, which she 
had resolved (early in the morning — if possible, 
before her mother was up) to convert into 
current coin of the realm. 

*' ' Let's do at once what is to do, 
And trust ourselves alone,' " 

said Lucy to herself, as she drew out the ad- 
vertisement, and tried to guess what she 
might reasonably expect to get on her chain 
and bracelet. 

Lucy knew of a pawnbroker's, for once 
Annette, Lady Hamilton Treheme's Trench 
femme de chamhre, who was in reality a widow, 
though she was called " Mademoiselle," had 
told her with many tears that she had an 
only daughter in great trouble through la 
mechancete d\m scelerat de trowjpeur ; and 
having suddenly overtaken Lucy one day on 
her way home from the Hamilton Trehernes, 
Annette had informed her she was going to 
pledge her watch for her paume petite Ninon, 
who Avas just confined and in great want. 


Lucy, seeing poor Annette so agitated and 
almost incoherent in her distress, and thinking 
her broken English would not only be laughed 
at, but would be scarcely intelligible, had 
kindly offered to accompany her; and An- 
nette gasping out, " Oiii, ma pauvre demoi- 
selle ; qui sait si un jour voiis ne serez jpas 
Men aise de savoir comment vous y prendre ?'' 
had gladly accepted Lucy's offer. 

It is said that there is no species of know- 
ledge which at some time or other of our 
chequered lives does not prove useful, and 
Lucy — though she remembered with a shudder 
the insolence and rapacity of the man to 
whom Annette had pledged her w^atch, how 
he had underrated the article and beat her 
down, how satirical he was, and what pale, 
poverty-stricken wretches crowded round his 
counter, — Lucy, we say, was yet not so help- 
less nor so distracted as if she had been quite 
ignorant of the formula and unacquainted 
with the rules of the last resource of the 
destitute — a pawnbroker's shop ; Lucy, after 


she had drawn out her advertisement and 
packed up the articles she meant to part with 
till better times, glanced at her mother, who 
in her sleep looked Yery pale and care-worn, 
and inwardly the devoted daughter vowed 
to spare her as much as possible of the strug- 
gles which her prophetic spirit told her 
awaited them. 

Lucy stepped lightly to one of the large 
windows, threw aside the curtains, and looked 
out upon the square. 

The rain had ceased to fall, the sky had 
cleared, the moon had come forth with her 
attendant star, the sky was of the deepest 
azure, floods of silver light and masses of 
even shade divided the scene. Bright on the 
statue of the great naval hero. Nelson, shone 
the moon, and Lucy, as she gazed at it, 
thought over all she had heard or read of that 
affectionate yet fearless being, that romantic 
devotion to the Circe whom he called his 
" Emma," which must have caused a per- 


petual warfare between his conscience and his 
heart. From that sad tale of passion Lucy's 
thoughts wandered to her own absent and 
affianced lover. " He cannot even gaze on 
the same stars that I gaze upon," she thought ; 
*' it is spring with him when it is autumn 
here ; and while night closes round me, per- 
haps the dawn blushes for him ! This idea 
makes the separation between us seem indeed 
complete ! But yet my thoughts are with 
thee, Henry ! My prayers, winged by faith, 
may reach the throne of grace, and bring 
down blessings on thy dear head. I can 
conjure up thy form and face until I almost 
fancy I see thee as I saw thee when we 
parted ! Oh, Henry !" . . . Lucy started ; 
a knock at the door roused her out of her 
reverie. She left the window, and saw enter- 
ing, as she said " Come in," tlie tall gaunt 
form and grim spectacled visage of Mr. Giin- 
lay Snarl, her fellow-traveller, the Reviewer. 
" Don't disturb the old lady," he said, a])- 


preaching Lucy and speaking in a hissing 
whisper ; " she's quite knocked up, and a 
nap's the best thing for her. I dare say 
you're surprised to see me again so soon, but 
I thought you'd be anxious about the um- 
brella. I see it's a valuable one, though a 
little the worse for wear." 

Lucy was amazed ; neither she nor her 
mother had missed it, so much had they been 
engrossed by their troubles ; but it was a 
very good silk umbrella, an old fellows-tra- 
veller, and one to which Mrs. Blair especially 
attached great value. Her name was carved 
on the ivory handle. 

" How very kind of you," said Lucy ; 
" mamma has quite an affection for that old 
umbrella, and would have been in despair had-^ 
she lost it." 

" Had she lost it !" growled the finder ; 
" why, she had lost it, hadn't she?" 

" Yes, but we were so much put out by 
not being able to have our old lodging (owing 


to the death of the mistress of the house), and 
so much annoyed at being obhged to come 
here, that we actually had not missed the 
umbrella. How lucky that it fell into your 
hands ! Where did you find it ?" 

" In the railway carriage. I had left a 
book there, and when I went to look for the 
book in the corner where the old lady sat, I 
saw her umbrella. But why don't you like 
being here ?" 

" For many reasons," said Lucy, " but 
pi'incipally on account of the expense." 

" Can't you afford it?" 

Lucy looked at him in surprise, but re- 
plied, with a smile, " No, not very well ; 
we're far from rich, as you may suppose, since 
we put up with a third-class carriage." 

" The old lady a widow ?" 

" Yes." 

" Do you remember your father ?" 

" No ! he died when I was an infant." 

" Wonder 6/ie " (pointing with his thumb 


over his shoulder at the sleeping Mrs. Blair), 
" wonder she never married again — she's been 
very pretty in her day ! What was your fa- 
ther — a gentleman, eh ?" 
• " Yes, he was an officer." 

" And she's badly off?" 

'' Very." 

" And can't do anything to maintain her- 
self, eh ? — she looks delicate." 

" She has been a great invalid, but, I thank 
Heaven, she is better now. However, well 
or ill, she shall not work while she has a 
daughter able to work for her !" 

" You, why what can you do ?" 

" What I have done before. I can go out 
as a Daily Governess." As Lucy spoke, she 
handed him the advertisement she had just 
drawn out ; they Avere both standing. 

He took the paper to the light, read it 
through a very suspicious -looking mist that 
dimmed his spectacles, and returning it to 
her, said: — 


" And can so young and delicate a creature 
as you are, bear the confinement, the drud- 
gery, the annoyances of all kinds connected 
with such a situation ?" 

"I can bear anything rather than inaction, 
the reproaches of my own conscience, and the 
seeing my mother want for anything." 

*' This is to go into the Times, eh ?" 

" Yes, to-morrow." 

" If you will give me a copy of it, I will 
put it gratis for you in a Aveekly paper in 
great demand, of which I am the editor 
and proprietor. It will increase your chance 
of success." 

Lucy thanked him, and begging him to 
be seated, soon wrote out a second copy of 
her advertisement. 

" You have not said where the answers ai*e 
to be addressed, nor have you spoken of re- 
ferences. Two very essential points. After 
all, wise as you think yourself, there's no put- 
ting an old head on young shoulders ; why, 

VOL. n. R 


with those omissions your money would liave 
been quite thrown away." 

Lucy blushed and smiled — she had forgotten 
tliose two important points. 

" Tliey may be addressed to my office if 
you like," he said, " and I will be your re- 
ference. I feel certain I shall have no cause 
to repent being so. This is my card ; shall I 
insert the address and say, ' References of the 
highest respectability given and required ?' " 

Lucy bowed. 

" How can I thank you ?" she said. 

" If you feel the least obliged to me," re- 
pHed he, " do me a favour in return. I had 
a world of trouble to trace you here, and 
only succeeded by going back to the Water- 
loo Station, and finding out your cabman ; 
hickily I had taken his number — I always do. 
Let me advise you never to fail to do so ; it's 
a necessary precaution, always take the num- 
ber of any cab you get into, * Cabby told 
me he had driven you first to Arundel Street, 


and then here ; but when you leave this place 
to-morrow, I shall have no clue to your abode, 
unless you are so good as to say you will drop 
me a line to this address (pointing to his 
card), in order to let me know w^here I may 
call on you." 

" I fear," said Lucy, " our lodging will be a 
very humble one, very poorly furnished, and 
in some cheap, and therefore unfashionable 
neighbourhood !" 

"Oh, never mind, I visit peojjle, not places. 
When I call to see you, I don't want to stare 
at myself reflected in three or four fine 
glasses. It's your little face and form I want 
to see, not my own. I don't care for line 
furniture, but I do for a kind welcome. Do 
you promise ?" 

" I do, if mamma has no objection." 

" vShe, poor old soul ! she'll have no objec- 
tion if you have none. Knowledgk is power. 
Intellect will always govern" 


" Mamma is very clever," said Lucy, 

" Oh, of course slie is, I meant no offence ; 
but if these advertisements fail, I might be 
able to put you in the way of making some- 
thing by your pen. If you have any turn 
for writing, I'll enable you to earn some- 
thing by contributions to my paper." 

" Oh, sir, I fear I could never write any- 
thing good enough to be printed." 

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! Why, the trash that's issued 
from the press every day, and praised highly 
too, would disgrace Bedlam ; from your con- 
versation I should fancy you've plenty of stuff' 
in you, and if so, I dare say I can soon 
put you in the way of reviewing !" 

'' Reviewing ?" 

" Yes, my dear child, there's nothing 

'' What, reviewing the works of genius ?" 

" Oh ! genius, no ! genius is like the aloe, 
>\hich blossoms once a century. You won't 


be much troubled with that, but in any case, 
you need not be a genius to review a genius ; 
a Httle smartness and a great deal of spite 
will do/' 

Lucy shook her head. " Then I (fennot be 
a reviewer," she said ; " I could not bear to 
give pain, particularly to the most sensitive 
race in the w^orld." 

*' The genus irritabile — very true ! How- 
ever, we'll talk about that some other time — 
I'm off now. You look very pale and fagged, 
you'd better get to bed. Kemember your 
promise, and my respects to the old lady, 
when she wakes." 

So saying, he put on his hat, pulled it do\\ n 
over his brows, and turning on Lucy a broad 
back, bent by study, he shuffled out of the room, 
and Lucy heard him stumping down stairs. 

When Mrs. Blair woke, she was very much 
amused by Lucy's account of her visitor, and 
Hope revived in her simple heart, at the idea 
of Lucy's becoming an authoress. 


" I dare say the old spectacled bear has 
taken a great fancy to you, my love," she said ; 
'' else, why should he give himself all this 
trouble about my umbrella ? I hope he Avont 
fall in ll^ve with you though ; for if he does, 
as of course you cannot return the compli- 
ment, he will soon cease to be a friend. But 
if he can enable you to turn youi* talents to 
account as a writer, what a blessing it would 
be to me to have you at home with me, in- 
stead of seeing you go out in all weathers to 
undergo the fatigue and the mortifications 
that attend a daily governess's ill-requited 
labour. And then what pride, what delight, 
I should take in seeing things in print that 
my Lucy had written : how lucky that we 
travelled third class \" 

" It seems so, indeed, mamma," said Lucy ; 
only ' there is a special Providence in the fall 
of a sparrow.' But though I think there is 
something very kind-hearted about this spec- 
tacled bear, 1 fancy he is a great meddler, a 


sort of busy-body, that's all. You sinjuld 
have heard his examination and cross-exajni- 
nation of me, mamma ; but had you done so, 
and seen him the while, you would not suspect 
him of anything lover-like or tender. He 
behaved more like a beadle to a charity child, 
or an usher to a bad boy, than a lover to a 
young lady." 

Mrs. Blair laughed, but was not convinced. 

" Come then, my love, let us go to oar 
large regal bed," she said ; and Lucy, full of 
undefined hope, in spite of all she had said, 
complied, and ere long, with her rich hair 
gathered up in a white net, and the bloom of 
Hebe on her sweet, soft face, she was sleeping 
by the side of her pale mother, who adhered 
to the old-fashioned voluminously frilled 
night-cap and night-dress as of her youth. 

The bed was the perfection of comfort, and 
Lucy did not wake till the morning sun stole. 
in through the crevices in the shutters, and 
the chambermaid knocked at the door to an- 


iiouiice that it was half-past eight, and to ask 
when the ladies would breakfast, and what 
they would take. 

Lucy rose at once, glad to see that her 
mother still slept. She dressed herself quietly 
and quickly, and hastening into the sitting- 
room, wrote the following note to her mo- 
ther : — 

"Deaeest Mamma, 

** Be not uneasy at my absence, I shall be back 
to breakfast by ten, I dare say. I am going before tbe 
busy world is abroad (o the shop in Holborn, where 
I went with Annette. I hope to get this disagreeable 
matter well over before you open your dear eyes on this 
bright day. 

*' Your devoted 

" Lucy." 




Yks, the day was very bright, and as Lucy 
looked out on Trafalgar Square, she saw the 
rich, soft sunshine of late autumn shining on 
those two great heroes. Nelson and Napier, 
and the flags, washed clean by the rain, 
sparkling in the sun, while the stalls were piled 
with fruit, and the city Arabs were caten- 
wlieeling merrily, and everything looked lively 
and fresli in the morning breeze. Even the 
very cab horses shone sleek in the sunbeams, 
after their night's rest, and witli their noses 


ill their bags were enjoying a few minutes of 
what to them is the highest of pleasures (alas, 
there are bipeds of the same opinion !). But 
though all looked so fresh and bright, and full 
of promise, Lucy's heart sank within her — the 
hope and energy she had felt when she laid 
her head on her pillow, had quite deserted 
her now she stood in so much need of it, and 
nothing but conscience and filial piety nerved 
her to carry out her painful and perplexing 

A nervous dread stole over her heart, and a 
heavy presentiment of evil dismayed her 
spirit. However, she resolved to conquer 
these feelings, and, as she tied on her hat 
and cloak, she inwardly prayed for strength, 
faith, hope and comfort, and seizing her 
little packet, she stole down stairs. 

As she opened one of the inner glass doors, 
she saw, to her great annoyance, Mr. Grinlay 
Snarl, his umbrella stuck horizontally under 
his arm, and his hat pulled down over his 


ears, which his shoulders met, walking up and 
down before the hotel facade Hke an un- 
drilled sentinel. 

Inexpressibly provoked, Lucy was going 
back again, resolved not to expose herself to the 
unpleasantness of being accosted by him, and of 
having his company forced upon her, when she 
saw a washer-woman with a basket going out 
in a different direction, and following her, Lucy 
found there was a back way out of the hotel, 
and passing some mews and an alley or two, 
she reached the Strand. 

She came out exactly opposite to that 
pastrycook's into which she had been carried 
on the memorable day of the upsetting of 
the rickety old cab. 

The young dandizette was at her post, all 
bugles, beads, bows, and crinoline, and every- 
thing looked unchanged. The same wedding 
cakes, with their sugar orange flowers, sugar 
Cupids, sugar doves, and sugar temple to Hy- 
men, sweet and brittle, stood in the Avindow s, 


where jellies and baked custards, and buns and 
tarts, puffs and macaroons, appeared exactly 
as they had done on that eventful day when 
Lucy first beheld " him who was her destiny." 
Nothing there seemed changed ; the scene the 
same —but two of the actors (at least), how 
changed are they ! 

Lucy, remembering all she had felt and 
suffered, how she had wept, and loved, and 
hoped, and feared since that day, felt as if 
she had been a child till that morning, but a 
woman ever after. 

" Yes," she thought she might have said 
with Julie de Mortemar, " ' Child no more, I 
love, and I am woman,' " and she was right. 
The two Great Masters of Hfe, Love and Death, 
had met the young girl face to face, since that 
eventful day. 

She had been, as the witty Hood said, " so 
near Death's door, that she had heard the 
creaking of the hinges ;" but Death, not prone 
to spare age, sex, innocence, or beauty, had 
spared her, while Love had claimed her for his 


own, and written an indelible name on her 
heart's core. Lucy began to feel very anxious 
about her lover, and to long intensely for some 
tidings of him, if only in the shape of a news- 
paper from the Land of Promise and the Queen 
of the South, to apprize her that he was safe 
and had not forgotten her. She resolved on 
her return to call in Arundel Street, and know 
w^hether any letter or paper had arrived, di- 
rected to her, and to ask the inmates to keep 
such for her should any come. 

And then she sped lightly on, on, on, on, 
till she reached the shop where three large 
gilt balls, nodding above her head, seemed to 
invite her to enter. 

This she did not find it very easy to do, poor 
child ! Her beauty had, as usual, attracted 
the notice of several idlers, and she did not 
like those who she knew were watching to see 
her enter a pawnbroker's. She lingered then, 
looking at the pictures, china, books, and 
articles of jewellery, exhibited for sale, when 


all at once a little cry of surprise and distress 
escaped her, the blood rushed to her face, hot 
and stinging, and then receding, left her cold 
and pale and gasping — for among the articles 
exhibited for sale, she saw the very ring she 
had given to Henry Greville when they parted ! 
She examined it with distended eyes and a 
beating heart, but the longer she looked at it, 
the more convinced she was that it was the 
same ! 

She had worn it from her childhood. There 
was the delicate little cameo head of Psyche 
with the diamond star on the forehead, the 
emeralds that surrounded the cameo, and even 
a little scratch, which she well remembered, 
on the enamel. 

A choking feeling of anger, disappointment, 
mortification, and wounded love and pride, 
sent large, scalding drops to her eyes and a 
spasm to her throat as she thought, " Could 
he have parted so easily with the troth ring 
I gave him ? If so, what love can he have 


for the wretched Lucy ?" It was only by a 
very strong effort that the poor girl prevented 
herself from giving way to her agony, and 
bursting out into a passionate fit of hysterics ; 
but she did control the violence of her emo- 
tion, and, unmindful now who looked on while 
she entered the shop, she suddenly pushed 
aside coats, cloaks, shawls, table-covers, 
blankets, &c. ; and leaving the bright and 
sunny street, stood in the semi-gloom of 
the shop, before a well-worn counter, po- 
lished by the friction of several generations 
of the hot, nervous, wasted hands of anxious 
Poverty, and the treasures of affection aiul 
home comforts offered on that rude altar. 

There were several other partitions opening 
on this counter, and a brutal, red-faced 
shopman was serving a poor creature, whose 
wasted hand alone Lucy saw, holding out a 
portrait set in gold of an officer in uniform. 

" Where ever did you get hold of the pic- 
tiin^ of that smart chap?" said the man. 


" He was my husband, sir," said the poor 
girl, bursting into tears. '' He was an En- 
sign in the Marines." 

" Oh, I dare say ; then you'd better just 
tell that to some of his brother officers. You 
know the old saying, ' Tell that to the Ma- 
rines, for we seamen knoAV better.' I ain't 
the soft you take me for. There, take a last 
look at the pretty dear, do ! May be, it would 
be better for ye if you'd never clapped eyes 
on the horiginal." 

As he mockingly held the picture to her, 
the young widow turned away and passionately 
kissed it. 

" What do you want on it, you silly 
wench ?" said the man, a, little softened. 

"Two pounds, sir," sobbed the young wi- 

" One pounds ten is the outside I can give," 
said the shopman, while a large hand, rough 
with hard work and washing, came from a 
further recess, and a woman said, " When- 


ever's you agoing to attend to me, young 
man. I 'spose you keeps me waiting here 
all day 'cos you fancies I ain't a lady, and that 
she be." 

" A lady ! you ? Why, no one ever ac- 
cused you of being nothink of the kind, did 
they ?" retorted the shopman. 

"Lady or no lady, I'm come on a lad}'s 
arrant ; and that's to pay money, not to 
borrow it. I wants to take out a sight o' 
thinks ; so just attend to me, will ye, young 
man ?" 

Upon hearing this," the master came for- 
ward from some inner recess ; and the pert 
shopman, turning to Lucy, said — 

" What can I do for you. Miss ?" 

Lucy produced her chain, her bracelet, a 
brooch, and two rings. After running them 
all down, separately and collectively, the shop- 
man agreed to lend her seven pounds ten on 
the whole. And this matter settled, he asked 
her the name and address. Seeing that she 

VOL. II. 8 


blushed and hesitated — (for she had not been 
at all prepared for this enquiry) — the shop- 
man, when Lucy had faltered forth the word 
" Lucy," suggested, " Lovely — I suppose. 
Miss, I may hadd Lovely," writing it down 
at the same time. " Address ?" And as 
Lucy again hesitated, he pertly added, 
" Short's Gardens, eh ? There's your ticket. 
Miss. Three pence, if you please. Any- 
thing else I can do for you. Miss ?" 

'' There is a ring in your shop window ex- 
hibited for sale, can I look at it ?" 

"Step hout at that door, and hin at the 
front one. Miss, and pint it out with your 
parasol !" 

Lucy complied ; it was among several 
others, headed with a card, " All these valu- 
able rings ONE guinea each." 

" Was this ring pledged ?" asked Lucy. 
" No, Miss ; I bought it of a young gent, 
who said he was going abroad, and seemed in 
a great hurry. You see, it is a sort of a 


curiosity; and he asked a 'igh figgvir, and 1, 
like a fool, gave it ; for though it's a sweet 
think, and quite a hantick, it's very small, 
and not exactly a saleable ring to most cuv^- 
tomers. But there, I ain't one to beat no- 
body down, particular real gentry in dis- 
tress ;" and he bowed to Lucy. "Did you 
want to buy it, Miss? It's very tasty, and 
just your fit." 

" One oruinea I think it is marked !" said 

" Lor bless yoiu* soul, no !" said the ready 
libber, "that card fell down, quite promis- 
cuous and accidental, on that tray, Miss. I 
wouldn't part with that ring for three pounds 
ten, and that's just what I gave for it." 

" It is more than I can afford," said Lucy, 
about to retire. Much as she wished to save 
it from its ignominious position she did 
not feel justified in spending on anything not 
positively necessary, nearly tlie half of what 
she had obtained with so much trouble and 


mortification. As she was leaving the shop 
the man called after her; and as she did not 
seem disposed to make an offer, and beat him 
down, he beat himself down to five-and- 
twenty shilUngs, at which reduced price Lucy 
thought she was justified in regaining her 
ring. But it w^as through large scalding 
tears that she gazed at it, when it was once 
more on the finger on which she had worn it 
from the time she w^as a little inmate of a 
convent in Italy until she gave it to her lover. 
What a change had this discovery made in 
Lucy's feelings ! Of all the tortures tliat 
haunt that inquisition, an anxious mind, dis- 
trust of the loved one is the most cruel 1 In 
its train come jealousy, self-depreciation, 
fever, dejection, and despair. Poor Lucy ! a 
hot and burning sense of wrong was at her 
heart, confidence in herself, confidence in 
others, seemed crushed by that fall, the 
heaviest the heart can know — the fall of an 
idol from his secret shrine 




Lucy, in order not to keep her mother one 
unnecessary moment in suspense, took a cab 
at the bottom of New Oxford Street ; aiul de- 
termining to call in Arundel Street in the 
afternoon on her way to the " Times" office, 
she ordered the cabman to drive her to tlie 
Trafalgar Hotel, Charing Cross. 

The first shock (connected with the sight 
of her troth-ring exposed for sale) over, Lncy 
summoned to the aid of her tormented spirit 
and sore heart all her faith and trust in 


Heaven, the patience and philosophy ac- 
quired in the school of adversity, and some 
lingering confidence in her absent lover, 
and dislike to judge and condemn him un- 

" He could not have been in such abject 
poverty as to have induced him to part with 
my troth ring and only love-gift for a few 
shillings," she said to herself; " for he talked 
of a small capital to be invested in sheep- 
farming. It is just possible that the ring 
may have been lost by him, — stolen from 
him, — anything is more likely than that 
Henry Greville, frank, generous, devoted to 
me, as I feel he is, could have sold it him- 
self. As soon as I know where he is, I will 
tell him I have it, and beg him to let me 
know how and when he lost it." 

Having come to this resolution, Lucy tried 
to feel hopeful and composed, and though 
" ever and anon of grief suppressed, there 
came a token like the serpent's sting," she 


had resumed her usually calm appearance and 
manner, when her self-possession was again 
sorely tried by the sudden apparition, at the 
comer of Trafalgar Square, of Slimy Coil 
in earnest conversation with Greville's great 
friend, Cecil Sydney. 

Lucy's thick veil of double gossamer was 
down, and she drew back in the cab to avoid 
recognition; but the sight of Slimy Coil 
always sent a shudder through her frame, such 
as one experiences at the sight of a loathsome 
and poisonous reptile. She had a sort of un- 
defined impression that the little attorney was 
her evil genius, and she somehow associated 
him with all the most painful events of her 
Ufe. She felt sure he had been a party to 
the base plot for her ruin at " The Willows ;" 
her miseries at the Hamilton Trehernes had 
been much increased -since her first meeting 
with the little detestable fellow in an omni- 
bus ; and whenever ho had been much at 
Lady Hamilton Treherne's, an additional sting 


seemed added to her ladyship's venom, and 
new impertinence dropped from her pupils' 

Lucy always felt a vague sense of approach- 
ing evil and discomfort whenever she was 
aware of the vicinity of Slimy Coil. How- 
ever, on this occasion she escaped his notice, 
and arrived without any further adventure or 
misadventure at the hotel, and hastening up- 
stairs, found her mother anxiously awaiting 
her, and the breakfast ready. Mrs. Blaii*, 
who, with all her affection for Lucy, was not 
a person of very quick perceptions, did not 
remark, as a more penetrating investigator 
would have done, the traces of recent emotion 
in the wet eyelashes and her cheeks on which 
a hot flush still burned. 

" How rosy you look, my darhng," she 
said, " and how much .you must want your 
breakfast. Now take off your cloak and bon- 
net, and sit down at once. AVhile you take 
your tea, you can tell me all about it." 


Lucy complied, and Mrs. Blair thought she 
had done wonders ; and in return for Lucy's 
narrative, informed her that she, too, had 
something to tell, namely, that Mr. Grinlay 
Snarl had called, and finding Mrs. Blair in 
the sitting-room, had subjected her to n 
very close and rude cross-examination about 
Lucy ; her exact age, temper, tastes, accom- 
plishments, habits, health, &c. 

*' I hope you did not satisfy his curiosity, 
mamma," said Lucy. 

'' Why, my dear," replied Mrs. Blair, '' I 
could not refuse to reply to such questions, so 
direct as his were, without very great rude- 
ness ; as we hope to turn his acquaintance to 
some account, I thought it better to answer 
him in a ready, straightforward manner, par- 
ticularly as we have nothing to conceal. 
Among other things, he asked me if you had 
ever had an offer." 

" Oh, mamma, what a bear and busybody 
he is ! AVhat did you say ?" 


" I said you had. He wanted to know 
if you had had more than one. I replied 
Yes. He then asked who were the gentle- 
men. I replied, that I did not feel at liberty 
to divulge, but that one of them would have 
furnished you with every hixury and elegance 
of life, as he was a person of very large for- 
tune. He then said, ' I suppose the idea of 
parting from you caused Miss Blair's refusal.' 
' No,' I said, ' for both her suitors proposed my 
living with her.' ' j\Iore than I would have 
done,' he said. ' I mean no offence to you, 
old lady ; you seem a quiet, well-meaning, 
inoffensive body, but I could never stand the 
meddling of my w^ife's mother.' He then 
asked if you had ever been in love." 

" Oh, mamma !" cried Lucy, blushing 
deeply, " what a very impertinent question ! 
What did you say ?" 

" I replied that you were heart-whole and 
fancy free, as far as I knew. ' And she isn't 
a girl to have secrets of that kind from her 


mother, I should think, is she ?' he asked." 
Lucy's conscience pricked her, and her eyes 
filled with tears. " I replied, ' She is all can- 
dour and truth.' ' So much the better,' said 
he ; ' girls are not good for much if once they 
get a lover into their heads ; and Miss Blair 
seems to me a clever, intelligent little girl, 
who might, with a good deal of schooling) 
training, and guiding on my part, make some- 
thing by her pen — she's not a bad-looking 
girl — (fancy that, Lucy !) — and I should think 
you must feel very uneasy to have her trapes- 
ing about the streets as a daily governess.' I 
replied, that if you could earn two or three 
pounds a-week in any way that would keep 
you at home, it would be a great relief to my 
mind, and I believed to yours. Upon this 
he grew very consequential, and rather over- 
bearing, and said, ' Well, I'm turning it over 
in my mind ; I can't promise anything posi- 
tively, everything must depend on her talents 
and docility. Remember, Mrs. Blair — docl- 


lity. She told me last night that you can't 
afford to stay here ; indeed, no one who's not 
as rich as a Jew could. First-rate hotels are 
ruinous, and second-rate ones unendurable. 
The sooner you're off the better. She's to 
let me know where you settle as soon as it's 
decided. Don't let it be very far from the 
Strand, fof I shall have to be dropping in at 
all hours, if I, not only take her in my staff, 
but have to put her in the way of her work. 
Now just tell her I'm bringing out a series of 
little sketches for the railway, called Trains 
and Travellers.' He's left these little hints as 
to what he wants, and you are to see what 
you can make of them by to-morrow evening, 
when he has invited himself to tea with us in 
our lodgings, wherever they may be, and 
where you are to read aloud to him what- 
ever you have written on the subject he has 

" Oh, mamma, how frightened I shall be. 


And he is so rude and so satirical. An 
editor, too 1" 

" Never mind, you can but do your best, 
and if he is very disagreeable, you can say 
you prefer rather to bear the ills you have as a 
daily governess, than to fly to others that 
you know not of as an authoress." 

" Give me the paper he has left, dear mam- 
ma, and when we have fixed on a lodging, I 
Avill make an essay — but for this remote chance 
of pleasing that bitter critic, I shall not forego 
a more promising chance of earning a liveli- 
hood, but shall all the same insert my adver- 
tisement in the Times'' 

" Oh, I hope and pray, my love, that your 
success as a critic may render that odious 
drudgery unnecessary." 

" At any rate, if I mistake not, m.mnna, 
Mr. Grinlay Snarl will behave better if I have 
something else to fall back u])()n, than if I 
make myself quite dependent on his favour. 
And now, had we not better go out and get. a 


lodging, and then return, put up our things, 
pay the bill, and remove at once ?" 

" Certainly, dearest ; that is the best plan 
we can pursue." 




At the end of October almost all London 
was to be " let furnished," but yet Lucy and 
her mother found it very difficult to suit 
themselves. They did not like to engage to pay 
more than twelve or fifteen shillings a week 
for an apartment, and yet tliey feared, after 
what Mr. Grinlay Snarl had said, to go to 
any great distance from the Strand ; and fresh 
air, space, cleanliness, and perfect respectability 
were all important to them. 

Parlours on a second floor were all they 


ventured to look at, and they had seen some 
twenty specimens of such, and been disgusted 
by slip-shod " gals," and bold rapacious mis- 
suses in soiled tawdry finery ; had been asked 
a guinea a week for a pair of close dingy 
closets on the groundfloor, andtAvelve shillings 
for even a wretched front attic, and had been 
jeered, scouted, or, as the " gal " would have 
said, " had their answer," when at a stationer's 
nearly opposite Drummonds' Bank, Charing 
Cross, they found a very clean, airy second 
floor, scantily furnished it is true, and, indeed, 
professing only to be "■ partly furnished," but 
the deficiencies were such as they thought 
they could put up with for the sake of the 
central situation, the space, the air, and the 
cleanliness ofthe rooms. 

There was no chimney glass, no carpet, no 
chiffonier, and no sofa in the sitting-room, 
but there were some beautiful engravings and 
curious old pictures, a very comfortable arm- 
chair for Mrs. Blair, and a low stool for Lucy, 
also an American rocking-chair, which Lucy 


thought Mr. Grinlay Snarl would be very- 
likely to appropriate, while a regular and very 
complete ecritoire promised Lucy great com- 
fort in her new career as an authoress. The 
bed-room was beautifully clean and very airy. 
The bed was not of faded tick, like many 
they had seen, half full of old unwholesome 
feathers or lumpy wool, it had a perfectly new 
spring mattress, a first-rate iron bedstead, 
with gay chintz curtains, and all the bedding 
quite new. There was no toilet glass, but 
Lucy had one in her dressing-case, and the 
good-natured master of the house promised 
that if they remained all deficiencies should, 
by degrees, be supplied. One very clean, 
rosy, country maid was to wait upon them ; 
and Mrs. Blair and Lucy, after several hours 
of fatiguing lodging-hunting, being fully 
aware " how hard it is to find the place just 
suited to your mind," thought themselves for- 
tunate in their final selection. 

Lucy and her mother were no\v all anxiety 

VOT,. TT. T 


to leave their gorgeous, ruinous hotel, where 
every heavy hour cost its weight in silver, 
if not gold, and to establish themselves where 
they could economise and deny themselves to 
some purpose. 

It was so late by this time that Lucy was 
obliged to forego her intention of taking her 
advertisement to the Times office, and of call- 
ing in Arundel Street about letters from Aus- 
traUa. All there was time for, was to return 
to the hotel, pay the bill, pack up what few 
things they had left, and settle themselves in 
their second floor. 

The bill, about which they had indulged in 
sundry guesses and misgivings, was a trifle 
more than their worst fears had imagined it. 

The items were as follow : — 

£ s. d. 
Apartments 1 10 

Two teas, with eggs and liam ... 6 

Two breakfasts, with chicken ... 7 

Fire 2 

Wax lights 030 

Attendance 060 

2 14 


" Oh, what a blessing it will be to get away 
from such a ruinous place," said Mrs. Blair. 

Lucy agreed ; and quietly deducting the 
price she had paid for her ring, £1 5s., and the 
hotel bill, £2 14s., from the £7 10s. she had 
obtained on her ornaments, she found they 
had just £3 lis. in hand. 

Out of this she must pay some eight or ten 
shillings for her advertisement, a cab to re- 
move their luggage and themselves to their 
new lodgings and lay in a stock of coals, 
wood, tea, sugar, candles, and other necessary 

" I will husband it as well as 1 can," 
thought Lucy, " and at any rate I hope that 
before this small capital is exhausted, I shall, 
either by teaching or writing, be making 
enough to prevent my dear mother and my- 
self from experiencing want for the present, 
or anxiety for the future. 

* * * * 

" 1 think to-morrow will be early enougfi to 

T 2 


apprize Mr. Grinlay Snarl of our present 
address, mamma," said Lucy. " If I write to 
him at once, as he is so very curious and 
meddhng, he will probably be bursting in upon 
us to-night, before we are at all prepared to 
receive him." 

" Just as you like, my dear," replied Mrs. 
Blair, " only don't run the slightest risk of 
seeming to ,wish to keep him away. However, 
he has invited himself to tea here to-morrow 
evening ; so perhaps he will not expect to be 
asked before — but as I said before, it would 
not do to appear at all disinclined for his com- 

Lucy did not like to say a word to dash her 
mother's hopes, or to convey her sense of the 
necessity of not suffering an impertinent, 
bearish meddler to gain too much ascendancy 
in their little home, on account of vague ex- 
pectations that might never be realised. But 
she inwardly resolved not to be dictated to by 
this strange intruder, and was quite determined 


not to write to him and inform him where they 
were located until the next day. 

Mrs. Blair, with whom the air and bustle of 
London never agreed, was looking so pale, 
tired, and poorly, that Lucy persuaded her to 
sit down in the arm-chair by the fire, and 
amuse herself with the Times, which their 
landlord had civilly sent up. 

Lucy then busied herself, with the aid of 
Dinah, the rosy country maid, in preparing a 
little dinner, consisting of a few cutlets and 
mashed potatoes, a dish of scalloped oysters 
(scalloped by Lucy), and a batter pudding, also 
of her making. 

This little dinner turned out excellent, and 
after it was cleared away, while Dinah was 
getting the tea ready, Lucy took out the paper 
containing Mr. Grinlay Snarl's directions for 
her article, and drawing her ecritoire to the 
fire, began, while her pale mother enjoyed \ 
nap, to prepare herself for a plunge into tlie 
pleasant, exciting, dangerous, and yet cap- 


tivating waters of fiction. She had doubts 
in her own mind how she would treat the 
subject, and had, with a desperate resolution, 
saying to herself " Well begun is half done," 
written some pages, when Dinah came in with 
the kettle, and Mrs. Blair awoke. 

Lucy then rose to make the tea, and to 
butter a Sally Lunn for her mother, and just as 
the latter was temptingly ready, and the scene 
was one of enjoyable peace and comfort, a 
clumpeting noise was heard on the stairs, and 
Dinah throwing the door open, in stumped 
Mr. Grinlay Snarl. 




Poor Lucy felt inexpressibly provoked at 
this persevering intrusion ; and even poor Mrs. 
Blair, who, little expecting a visitor, was indulg- 
ing herself in the comforts of a Avrapper and 
slippers, felt a degree of irritation which her 
simple policy induced her to conceal under 
lively demonstrations of pleasure and welcome. 

" I felt very anxious to know where you 
were located," said Grinlay Snarl. 

" Very kind of you indeed," said Mrs. 
Blair, rising and offering him the arm-chair, 
which he took. 


'' Why, I don't know that there was much 
kindness in it," he said. " You see I mean to 
make this little lady of a good deal of use, if 
I can — and it's all-important to me that people 
I want should he at hand — so. as the last post 
did not bring me Miss Lucy's promised note, 
I went to the hotel, and luckily Tthe cabman 
who drove you here being brother to one of 
the waiters) I easily got your address." 

'• I hope you approve of the situation," 
said Mrs. Blau, •' and that it is not too far 
from yoiu' office." 

"No, it'll do; I wi.<h it were nearer, as I 
may be dropping in several times a day, if Miss 
Lucy and I suit each other." 

''Oh, I am siu'e . . . ." began Mrs. Blair. 

" Pray don't be sure at all about it," said 
Grinlay Snarl ; " Lm a hard task-master, Miss 
Lucy isn't the first young lady Lve tried to 
tram to work with; and got under me — and 
if she fails she won't be the first by a good 
many — I want talent without temper, obe- 


dience without servility, information without 
conceit, industry without ambition, and wit 
without pertness." 

" And I believe," said Mrs. Blair, '' that my 
Lucy will be bound to possess all those re- 

" Oh, mamma," said Lucy, " I do not be- 
lieve any one person can possess them ; and I 
almost think, from what Mr. Grinlay Snarl 
seems to exact, that the drudgery of teaching 
must be less irksome than that of becoming 
such a mere underscrub of literature, and 
slave of the pen, as he has described." Lucy's 
colour rose as she spoke, and there was a 
flash in her violet eyes which rather surprised 
Mr. Grinlay Snarl. 

" Talent without temper, ma'am !" he said, 
with a sort of triumphant chuckle, to Mrs. 
Blair. "It's in the temper they all break down ; 
talent, very great talent, I've met with in 
several young lady writers — but temper ! . ." 

" Oh, I am sure my Lucy's temper is that 


of an angel !" said poor Mrs. Blair, making 
signs to Lucy, behind Mr. Grinlay Snarl's 
broad bent back, to control herself and to 
conciliate him. 

" The temper of an angel, eh ? Yes, ma'am, 
till it's tried ! However, all this is premature. 
Look here, ma'am," and striding across the 
room, he went up to a great coat he had left 
on a chair near the door, and took out a bottle 
of wine, a cold roast fowl, and a huge lobster. 
*' I'm come to tea, or supper, or whatever 
you like to call it, and here's my contribution. 
It's one of my principles, that people who 
live by their wits, and who therefore require 
good fare, and the relaxation of pleasant com- 
pany, should enjoy both, but never in any 
shape but that of an in-door or out-door 
pic-nic. What a miserable sight it is to see 
a poor author, or authoress poorer still, at- 
tempting to give a dinner party in some small 
lodging, and spending on one meal perhaps 
the gains of a week. Perhaps ten or twelve 


people, most of tlicm much better off than 
the host or hostess, come and eat and drink 
him or her out of house and home, while 
if each guest had contributed a pint of wine, 
and a dish of something, no one would have 
felt the expense, and the dinner- giver would 
not have been summoned to the County Court 
by the poulterer, confectioner, butcher, and 
wine merchant ! What say you, Mrs. Blair, 
am I not right ?" 

Mrs. Blair, eager to please and conciliate, 
and struck with the consideration of this 
theory for those whose cupboard, like Mrs. 
Hubbard's, of immortal memorv, was often 
bare, cordially agreed. 

The coral beauty of the lobster, and the 
delicate charms of the roast fowl, also won her 
heart, and she could not help smiling as she 
saw Grinlay Snarl set them out on the table, 
with an almost parental ])ri(]c in liis green 
eyes, as he pointed out tlic dimensions of the 
lobster, the tender [)linnpness of the ciiickeii, 


and the cobwebs and other proofs of ripe old 
age on the bcttle of Madeira. 

Lncy poured out the tea, and handed the 
Sally Lunns, of Avhich Mr. Grinlay Snarl took 
two-thirds at once. His appetite was some- 
thing almost miraculous, and Dr. Johnson at 
Miss Reynolds's tea-table could not have out- 
done him in the quantity of cups of tea he 
drank, or in his rapidity in dispatching them. 
" I've had nothing to-day," he said, " since 
a chop and potato at one o'clock, for I had 
set my heart on this pic-nic !" 

He then helped Mrs. Blair and Lucy to a 
wdng each, and put the remainder of the fowl 
on his own plate. The lobster he had all to 
himself, and neither Mrs. Blair nor Lucy would 
touch it. Nor would they pledge him in the 
old East India Madeira, of which he drank 
several glasses. 

Lucy felt rather annoyed and provoked to 
see a stranger making himself so much at 
home ; but poor Mrs. Blair, whose anxieties 


.ioout tlie morrow were in the ascendant, and 
who fancied she saw a certain source of hicra- 
tive and not unpleasing employment for Lucy 
in their new acquaintance, was rather pleased 
than otherwise with what she considered an 
evidence of friendship and good- will, in a very 
eccentric and kind, though a very ill-bred and 
rather disagreeable character. 

After Mr. Grinlay Snarl had finished his 
protracted and ample repast, he rose, and 
taking Mrs. Blair by both wrists, almost lifted 
her back into her arm-chair, saying, " There, 
old lady ! that's the place for you ! Now let's 
see what Miss Lucy has been doing ;" and 
before Lucy could snatch her MS. off her 
writing-table, he, to her great annoyance and 
vexation, had seized upon it, and began, in 
spite of her entreaties, to read aloud what slie 
had written. 

Lucy was too dignified to condescend to 
have a struggle for its recapture, but she 
was very much annoyed, and inwardly n- 



solved to persevere until she obtained pupils, 
rather than be dependent on the patronage of 
the great raw-boned bear who was rocking 
himself in the immense chair, while he read 
aloud Lucy's attempt to embody his hints, 
which she had done in the following man- 

Railway Adventures, 


Trains and Travellers. 

" A very taking title, though I say it, who, 
perhaps, should not, having suggested it my- 
self," said Mr. Grinlay Snarl. " Now let's 
see what Miss Lucy has made of it. Listen 
attentively, old lady, — one, two, three, and 
away 1 Miss Lucy's first attempt !" 

'' What a wonderful thing the railway really 
is ! One grows in these days so accustomed to 
consider it a mere matter of course, and an 
every- day concern, that one forgets to marvel 
at this perfection of fleetness, comfort, eco- 


nomy, and elegance in travelling, and to thank 
God in cases of torturing anxiety, when one 
loved dearly, ' with the powers of Death's 
dark angel lies contending,' that suspense is 
robbed of half its power, and that a few 
hours will soon bear us to scenes, to reach 
which as many days would formerly have 
been wasted ; and then we should perhaps 
have arrived too late ! But there is one 
greater wonder still, one greater boon to the 
anxious heart, one greater proof of ' the di- 
vine particle ' in man's mind ; and that is, 
the electric telegraph ! Who can look at 
those apparently silent cords, and not feel 
sure, as they gaze, that they are bearing rap- 
ture to some hearts, agony to others ; comfort 
or hope, peace or terror, shame and despair, 
or woe unutterable ! 

" 'Them's the cords that hung Tawcll,' said 
a countryman, gazing with cloddish awe at 
the electric wires along which had darted 
the message that enabled the detective police- 


raan — a ' Bucket ' in his way — to house 
the coAvard quaker who had poisoned the 
miserable woman he had seduced : and really, 
so powerful are the wires as agents in 
detecting guilt, and preventing the escape 
of -criminals, that they seem almost like 
strings to the bow of unerring and God-like 

'' You gaze upon them as the spring breeze 
kisses them ; as the glad bird lights upon 
them with tiny foot ; as they shine in the 
sun, and seem to whisper of hope and joy ; 
and at that moment, perhaps, they convey to 
the father, the mother, the wife, the husband, 
the brother, the sister, or the child, tlie 
tidings that are their doom ! The dearest one 
is dead I Henceforth, the gay, bright world 
seems hung with black. The morbid remorse 
of a bereaved but doting heart pours its poi- 
son into the erst sparkling cup of joy. ' The 
fever of vain longing' is ever on the spirit, 
and the dark shadow of a tomb is across the 


path of life, — and the words that have wrought 
this change darted with hghtning speed along 
those wires. 

" But ' none are all evil/ no, not even tliose 
messengers of wildest woe and never-ceasing 
sorrow ; they bear sometimes the soothing 
tidings that the darling of the heart died at 
peace with God, and fell asleep in Jesus. 
And who, that ever contrasted the gushing 
tears, the swollen eye-lids, the scorched, blis- 
tered, haggard cheeks," and parched, quivering 
lips, the convulsed frames, the moans, the 
sobs, the subdued shrieks of the mourners, 
with the calm, the holy repose, the dignified 
tranquiUity, and placid smile of the mourned, 
can doubt that what is such restless anguish 
to the one is heavenly peace to the other ? 

I *A11 gain to the Departed, 
All loss to the Bereaved.' 

* * * * 

"Too harrowing this theme for our ' Trains 
and Travellers,* meant to glide as lightly 
VOL. ir. u 


over the page, and dance as gaily in the tra- 
veller's eyes, as does the train itself along the 
shining rails. And then those wires, think, 
in defiance of the old adage, good news 
travels as swiftly along them as bad. The 
' better/ for which one would give a world if 
one had it ! The ' out of danger' that seems 
worth a Sultan's ransom. The ' found and 
penitent,' in reference to some misguided 
girl, long advertised as 'left her home,' or 
some rash young clerk betrayed into evil by 
bad companionship, who has been traced and 
s;ived, before ruin and disgrace were his por- 
tion, and, worse still, that of those who loved 
him. Yes, by electric wires, hope and joy, 
comfort and peace, are borne to aching 
bosoms and brains on fire — and so on through 
every sweet variety of that cordial to the 
anxious, fainting spirit, ' good news.' Some- 
thing we love or value is lost. If we love 
and value it, no matter whether it is a dia- 
mond necklace or a hair-rii}g — a pocket-book 


full of bank notes, or a bunch of keys, ' of 
no use but to the owner' — a miniature by 
Chalon, set in brilHants, or a poor attempt by 
an amateur friend — a Van Diemen's Land 
parrot, or an humble goldfinch, — that lord 
mayor of birds, a gorgeous macaw, or a brown 
English starhng — a King Charles's spaniel, 
with the ' five guinea spot,' or pussy gone 
astray, and running all the risks of a broken 
back, and of being flayed alive by that devil 
of Fleet Ditch, the fiend's own furrier ! — 
' Found,' the magic word, darts from north 
to south, east to west ! Suspense is at an end, 
and heart-peace restored. 

" With all gradations of tidings, bad and 
good, the wires are busy, and uncertainty, at 
least to some, the worst of evils, is slain at 
the shrine of godlike science. I never look 
at those wires, which vibrate in unison with 
so many heart-strings, without reverence, nor 
glance at the little dark offices for ' electric 
telegraph messages,' without remembering 

u 2 


that they are the temples of hope and despair, 
of life and death, of joy and sorrow, of calm 
and tumult/' 

"Well done, Miss Lucy," said Grinlay 
Snarl, " a very nice beginning — go on and 
prosper. By to-morrow evening I hope the 
article will be complete, and then Fll tell you 
candidly whether I think you'll do or not." 

" But," said Mrs. Blair, " from what you 
have just read, which to me seems very 
beautiful, what do you think your decision 

" At that I cannot even hint just now. 
All I have read is an essay, which, though 
pretty in its way, is not a style to take witli 
most people. The generality of readers 
want narrative, fiction, fun, excitement, 
adventure. If Miss Lucy manages that 
part of her work as well as she has done 

the exordium, I think But I won't say 

what I think, particularly as I see a frown and 
a pout, where frown and pout must never 


be — on the brow and lip of a protegee of 

Lucy smiled in spite of herself. 

He then added, rising and putting on his 
hat and great coat — 

" I have not yet had your advertisement for 
pupils put up, Miss Lucy, because, if you can 
make both ends meet without such odious, 
unprofitable drudgery, I am sure it would 
be much better for you and for your mother. 
I may be able to find you work enough, if 
you are industrious and docile — to render 
that exposure to all weathers, and all tempers, 
and all kinds of insults and annoyances, un- 
necessary. And now good night to you both ; 
and mind the article is quite finished by to- 
morrow evening !" So saying, he stumped 
down stairs. 

Mrs. Blair, rather elated, said — 

*' How beautiful what you have written 
is, my love ! I'm sure he thought so ; and 
I've no doubt, if you are but docile and in- 


dustrious, that eccentric old fellow will make 
your fortune !" 

"And I, mamma, am beginning to take 
such a dislike to him and his dictatorial in- 
terference with our affairs, that if it were not 
because you so detest my going out as a 
Daily Governess — and I so hate to leave you 
so much alone — I should prefer any rough 
weather, or .haughty airs, to the being con- 
stantly in dread of the intrusion of this ill- 
bred pedant." 

" I am very sorry to hear you say that, my 
Lucy. I own he is a strange, eccentric crea- 
ture ; but he means no harm, and his oddities 
rather amuse me. Besides, if he enables you 
to come out as an authoress, think what a dif- 
ference — the being engaged in a career which 
exalts any woman, even the loftiest, and 
makes all people court and admire you, to 
the drudgery of shrinking about from house 
to house, in so doubtful a position that many 
daily governesses are afraid to give a double 


knock, and not liking to give a single one, 
take refuge in a ring." 

Lucy said no more, and her mother hoped 
she was convinced ; but when her pretty head 
was on her pillow, and the day's events crowded 
back upon her mind, pre-eminent among them 
was the ungainly, raw-boned figure of Grinlay 
Snarl ; and the last thing she saw with her 
mental vision, before she fell asleep, was the 
editor, lolling in her mother's chair, following 
her movements with a green eye, in whicli 
was a curious mixture of admiration and 
authority, and reading her MS. against her 
will, while rocking his ungainly form in the 
American chair. 

" I cannot bear to be dependent solely on 
him and his patronage," said Lucy to herself; 
and she sank to sleep. 




Lucy woke betimes ; she grieved to see her 
mother looking pale and weary. London and 
anxiety did not agree with Mrs. Blair like 
Hastings and a holiday. Quickly Lucy 
dressed herself, to avoid awaking her mother, 
who, not having closed her eyes till dawn, 
now slept soundly. 

Lucy, as it was very early, and the busy 
world of London not yet stirring, seated her- 
self at her desk and wrote for three hours at 
a stretch ; indeed, until Hannah came in to do 


the room. She then, as Mrs. Blair was still 
fast asleep, put on her bonnet and cloak, and 
slipping down stairs, had herself conveyed in 
an omnibus as far as Blackfriars, whence she 
proceeded to Printing House Square to insert 
her advertisement. 

This done, and luckil}^, owing to the early 
hour, having escaped all idlers and tor- 
mentors of the unfair sex, she entered an 
omnibus again and proceeded to Arundel 
Street. She knocked with a trembling hand 
at the well-known door, and the scene vividly 
recalled her parting with Henry Greville, now, 
as it seemed to her, so very long ago. . . . 

The house was dark and still, all the shut- 
ters closed, for on this day poor Mrs. Bragge, 
her humble friend, once so kind, was to be 
conveyed to her long home. 

At Lucy's knock a bold, disagreeable, but 
rather handsome woman looked out of the 
area, and soon after a young man in niourn^ 
ing, with a very crafty and yet sensual ex- 


pression of countenance, came to the door, 
and asked her to walk in. Lucy complied, 
an J to her horror found herself in the front 
dining-room, where a coffin was lying on the 
table. It was a very handsome one, and 
Lucy saw that she was taken in to admire it. 

" I think you knew my poor dear haunt. 
Miss?" said the young man. Lucy bowed. 
" Well, Miss, she lived respected, and died la- 
mented. I thought you'd like to see that I'm 
doing it 'ansome. It's to be 'oped she's gone 
to a better place. I wish she'd been of a more 
serious turn ; but she was took off so sudden, 
we'll 'ope she won't be judged very hard." 

" It was very strange," said Lucy, " for all 
the time we were here she never had an hour's 
illness, and she took such care of herself, and 
seemed so likely to live to extreme old age, that 
I could scarcely believe it when first I heard 
she was gone. What did she die of? No 
accident, I hope ?" 

While Lucy spoke, a snake-like expression 


stole into the young man's vile features, and 
lie turned a dusky red, and then a livid 

" She's registered as dying of cholera, 
Miss," he said, " and I suppose the doctors 
ought to know." 

"Were you with her when she died?" 
asked Lucy. 

" Yes, Miss ; it was a fortunate thing, and 
quite a providence. Me and my wife had 
but just landed from AustraHa, when, taking 
up the paper, the first thing we see was, 
* Wanted, the next of kin of Judith Copley, 
Avho in 1815 married Joseph Bragge, of 
Arundel Street, Strand. Should this meet 
the eye of any relations of eitlier Joseph 
Bragge or Judith Copley, tlie same nuist 
apply for further information to Mr. Slimy 
Coil, solicitor, Clifford's Inn, Strand.' " 

" Then you were related to Mrs. Bragge ?" 
said Lucy. 

" Her own brother's son, saved from a 


wreck, and settled at Melbourne. She thought 
us all at the bottom of the sea, but luckily 
I'd got papers to prove my birth and hiden- 
tity ; and when she was convinced that I was 
her only brother's only son, she wor pleased, 
and no mistake, and she made her will in my 
favour that veiy day, and we had a hearty 
supper and a bowl of punch, and went to bed 
as glad as we could be. And in the night 
she w^as took w4th hillness, and cramps, and 
all manner, and the next day she died !" . . . 

"Poor creature!" said Lucy, "I knew 
her well ; she had a very kind heart, and I 
am very sorry she came to so sudden an 

Lucy then explained her errand, and Mr. 
Copley promised to take care of any letters 
that came for her. 

" Will you take a glass of wine and a bit 
o' burial cake, Miss ?" said Mr. Copley. 

Lucy declined, and casting one last tearful 
look at the richly-studded coffin, rose to leave 


the room, when a knock at the door made 

Mr. Copley exclaim — 

" Who's there, Miss ? — Will you please 

to peep through the crevice in the shutter 

and see if it's the hearse, or the mutes, or 

what ?" 

Lucy looked out. 

" It's a crowd of shabby people and several 

policemen," said Lucy. 

" What can they want here ?" gasped forth 
Mr. Copley, turning lividly pale, his teeth chat- 
tering, his hand shaking, his knees knocking 
together, and exhibiting every symptom of 
the most abject terror. His wife at this mo- 
ment rushed in hke a Bellona, her cheeks 
flushed, her eyes blazing ; she had caught up 
the kitchen poker, and regardless of the 
presence of Lucy, who had shrunk aside 
with a sense of something sinful and terrible 
about to be revealed, she rushed to her 
husband's side, and shaking lihn rudely by 
the collar as he sunk half fainting in a chair. 


hissed in his ear the words, " Sneak, 
craven, white-livered beggar, put a bold face 
on it ; why, if I were going to mount the 
scaffold, I'd not look like that — I'd die 
game ! " 

At the words "mount the scaffold," a 
scream seemed to issue from the poor cow- 
ard's heart, and in a few moments, while the 
Lady Macbeth of humble life was still taunt- 
ing and reviling her craven partner, the room 
filled with people, among them several police- 
men, and an inspector going up to Mr. Copley, 
said, that in consequence of reports that had 
reached the authorities, and to satisfy the 

pubHc mind, the magistrate, who had 

been applied to, had given him directions to an- 
nounce that, before the body could be interred, 
an inquest must be held, and a post mortem 
examination made. 

" What meddling tomfoolery is this ?" cried 
Mrs. Copley. '' The old body was took sud- 
den after a full meal, as I wish you and the 


beak and the whole lot of you might be this 
very minute !" 

'' Don't, Betsy ! Don't let your tongue 
run ! She means no offence, sir," faltered her 

Inspector Meadows eyed the women closely 
for a few moments, and then bent down to 
examine the features of the man. 

" If I'm not much mistaken," he said, 
" I've seen you both before. You, Mrs. Copley, 
I think would be better known by the familiar 
appellation of Brazen Bet. If I mistake not, 
the last time I saw you, you were some ten 
years younger, and having been convicted of 
' passing ' at the assizes, you were pre- 
paring for a long voyage at her Majesty's ex- 
pense. It strikes me, you're back before the 
pleasure of your company was expected. You 
know the penalty." 

He slipped a pair of handcuffs out of his 
pocket and on to her wrists. She was pale 
and quiet enough then. 


Mr. Copley looked up when he heard her, 
for the first time in his life, burst out into a 
fit of sobbing and crying. He met the in- 
spector's eye — his quailed. 

" As for you ! you were convicted of clip- 
ping and coining ; and though you were an old 
offender, you knew so well how to turn the 
water on to some account, that you was twice 
let off" with half a sentence ; but you got the 
name of Blubbering Bob and the Snivelhng 
Sneak. However, vou haven't done as she 
has done. You didn't come back to the old 
country without your ticket of admission. 
You're a ticket-of-leave man !" 

" I'm her nephew and next o' kin, for all 
that," blubbered the craven. 

" That may be ; but as the old lady de- 
parted this life so suddenly, just after meeting 
with such a nephew and niece as Brazen Bet 
and Snivelling Sneak, people who wouldn't 
stand on much ceremony where they had any- 
thing to gain, it'll be quite as well to know 


whether the old lady came faiily to her end 
and died a natural death. A post mortojn 
examination will decide that, and as the coro- 
ner, the sm'geon, and jury will be here shortly, 
you must all, good people, make yourselves 
scarce, and let the room and the body be got 
ready for the inquest. You, Brazen Bet, will 
please to come along with me." 

Vainly Brazen Bet tried tears, with prayers 
on her bended knees, and then, finding these 
of no avail, burst out into tori'cnts of oaths 
and abuse. 

She was removed in a cab, and J^lubbering 
Bob, fearing to be alone, begged to be allowed 
to go with her. 

Lucy, who had witnessed this scene with 
horror and distress, stole out, pale and sick at 
heart, convinced in her own mind that those 
two returned convicts had iinii(hMed the pool- 
kindly old woman who so enjoyed life , iiiid 
shuddering as she thought ol" Kia/en Het and 



tlie tieket-of-leave man, she, feeling too agi- 
tated to walk, hailed the first wandering cab 
she saw, and arrived at home just as Mrs. 
Blair came in to breakfast. 


Pilling, Printer, 103, Hatton Garden, London, and Guildford, Surrey. 


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